Changing Shoes
by Maura Maud Jadeit
Summary: Life goes on, people come and go, sometimes they come back. Spencer Reid finds himself about to step out from his old shoes into new ones. The transition however ends troublesome at best. Reid-centric. Team-centric. Spoilers: 6s. Humor.
1. Chapter 1: New Pair of Shoes

DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my first fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

__Reviews are greatly appreciated.__

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><p><strong>Changing Shoes<strong>

**SSA Spencer Reid**

He was a profiler for far too long to miss the sudden subtle change of air or what was far more annoying to him, stares which landed on him as soon as he had his back turned. JJ, Garcia or Ashley didn't participate in this ridiculous mind-game other three were playing with him. The game annoyed him immensely because he was fairly sure that after nearly ten years of doing his job in one way or another they should remember that they were Supervisory Special Agents but so was he.

That's right, he was Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer William – thank you my parents had great sense of humor – Tennyson Reid. Hotch and Morgan might have be ten years, and Rossi twenty-seven years older than him but he wasn't the youngest agent to enter FBI academy for nothing. Besides, he rarely reminded them of that fact he was a provable genius and one didn't have to be a genius to realize that for the last few weeks he was under strict surveillance for no apparent reason.

At first he thought that he had to do something but since Hotch didn't call him on anything other than strictly case related issues as they were greatly preoccupied with serial kidnapper. Once the case was solved, the unsub was in custody and last victim had returned home safely Spencer allowed himself to ponder over Hotch's, Morgan's and Rossi's newly developed behavior.

Usually when he allowed his mind to wander too far and he found himself in the middle of a lecture the other three usually tended to get him back to the point or cut the lecture altogether. He was aware of the fact that when he fixated himself on an interesting subject he could talk for as long as his mind was finding new connections between the facts, which could be long (his personal record was four hours, thirteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds with addition to quite severe case of laryngitis that rendered him speechless next day).

They were cutting him off for so long that he managed to divert a small fraction of his attention to observing their reactions from the corner of the eye to stop himself midstream when their expressions became too pained. There were times when he managed to stop himself from babbling before it came to that and there were times when one of them cleared their throat to distract him.

Three weeks ago when he caught himself dwelling too deep into the historical murders in local parish neither Hotch, nor Morgan nor Rossi made an attempt to stop him. After that they just let him talk at great lengths and variety of subjects if time allowed.

Then there was one of the three of them following him to meals, always allowing him to pick something for the two of them and never commenting on his shift in diet The most painful thing however was coffee, which was brought to his desk or station or just general location he planted himself while working every single time. It was made just exactly right in his most favorite way. Strong, very sweet with little milk and hint of walnut aroma. It was perfect. Perfect in old times when he joked that if someone invented coffee IV drip he would be the first person to sign up for permanent hook up. Not quite right when his caffeine intake had to be strictly controlled and shouldn't be higher than three cups daily.

Instead of coffee he fixated himself on flavored tea and he had a variety of flavors to pick from, always keeping a pack of mixed flavors in the box stashed in his messenger bag.

Seemingly there were no comments about his improved physical shape. He would still not outrun Morgan and he wasn't even attempting to try it but he would be able to keep his peace while running with Hotch and he would be definitely able to outrun Rossi. Then again he was on strict doctor's orders to keep at least one activity which would keep him in remotely good shape

Until it started snowing his activity of a choice was riding a bike around the neighborhood, an activity he enjoyed immensely and he promised himself that through the winter he would gain enough stamina to pull off riding a bike to and from Quantico in the spring.

An attempt on using relaxing techniques left him four times so deeply relaxed that he simply fell asleep on the floor.

But the most important thing about his health he enjoyed himself immensely was lack of migraines, he still had occasional nightmares but migraines were gone for good.

After a year, two months and three days finally he was migraine-free, not feeling even a smallest throb behind his eyelids. He only had his contacts adjusted slightly, which helped his vision.

Frankly it had been a while since he felt this good, so much in his prime. After all he turned thirty-one three months and a week ago.

Then why the constant supervision made him feel like incompetent toddler who just learned how to walk?

He knew that he outgrew 'rookie phase' at some point, frankly aside of a case in Florida when he wandered into the house without Kevlar vest with a mind splitting migraine he hadn't done anything irresponsible since wandering into Doctor Nichols house and getting anthrax.

He also knew that he had an opinion of the patient one, the one that would leash out the last and the one who could tear the suspect apart just by using his intellect and he wished that the other three could remember that.

Today was Friday, 13th January, the other three had until Monday, 16th till six o'clock in the evening to quit their game before he would prove them that a genius doesn't get mad, just simply gets even.

The girls already left for the day but the lights coming from Hotch's and Rossi's office pointed that they were still working and so did Morgan who was coming and going between his and Hotch's office.

He saved his file, turned the computer off and dropped the files he intended to look over the weekend into his messenger bag before he stood up, turned his lamp off and whistling to the tune '_No Woman No Cr_y' left the bullpen (okay, he might have given them the time till Monday but that didn't mean that he couldn't start unsettling them a bit now).

As he pushed the lobby button he smirked to himself. He felt like skiving lesson and he just knew where to find the teacher.

**SSA Aaron Hotchner**

Aaron, Dave and Derek were inside Aaron's office discussing their plan for yet another time when the light on Reid's desk was turned off and the genius himself walked away from the bullpen while whistling to '_No Woman No Cry_'.

"He is pretty close to snapping," Derek observed. "Let's face it we cannot stale any longer. He needs to be told, Monday before the day is over, the sooner the better."

"I'm surprised that he lasted this long without confrontation," Aaron mussed. "Reid can be pretty short tempered at times."

"He is the patient one," Dave added. "Though once he applies himself to it… Remember Doctor Malcolm's case? He tore Malcolm a new one without a blink and if I was Malcolm I would cave in after receiving first glare."

"He mellowed even more in past few days," Derek said. "He knows that we are observing him and he is observing us just as much if not more."

"He would do good," Aaron sighed. "If we can convince him to do it."

"He won't have another choice," Dave sighed. "Time to call it a day gentlemen."

**SSA Spencer Reid**

He pulled the Santa cap, Christmas present from Garcia, even tighter to shield his ears from the chilling wind as he scanned the crowd in the park. His teacher would be hard to miss if all of his assumptions were right and because it was chilly his assumptions had to be correct.

There it was. Knee-length, woolen winter coat in his favorite shade of purple, lime-green handmade woolen cap with matching scarf. Hard to miss really.

It took him twelve steps to get close enough to his victim to quickly bend down and grab a fistful of snow, two seconds to form a snow-ball and a second to aim it at his victim's head.

"What's up, Doc?" he smirked when the victim turned to face him.

"I'm meeting a friend here. Skiving lesson, he is going to have his ass kicked, repeatedly," came an amused answer. "So Doc, are you ready?"

"Last time I heard that I had bruised bottom for three days," he smiled at his companion.

"At least you didn't break a tailbone," the smirk appeared on his companion's face.

"So how is the academy?" he asked curiously. "Posting talk should have happened this week. Heard something interesting?"

"That Hawthorn will end in Anchorage, Alaska, he is deeply delighted considering that Virginia was first place he lived in where it happens to snow. As for me I didn't end in the talk, which according to certain genius means that my posting will be closer to the academy, as in Washington or Quantico closer."

"That's a good thing," he said lightly.

"Willcox from Washington's Crime Against Children had been in the talk though, at least I've seen him talking with Jericho, she didn't look happy after the talk. Additionally she had a lunch with Hotch, Rossi and Morgan on Wednesday, they did the talking, not that I heard anything, I only saw them but at least she looked happier than she was with Willcox."

He frowned. Hotch, Rossi and Morgan had a talk with Jericho on Wednesday at lunch and after lunch the stares at his back only intensified.

He looked at his companion and muttered, "Suddenly I'm not in mood for skiving lesson. I'm in mood for a talk, there is a nice tea house around the corner."

"Lead the way," his companion said.

The walk to the tea house was short and didn't take longer than a minute. Once inside they shed their coats and caps and ordered strong black teas with citrine slices.

It was then when he took a better look at his companion.

With her already messy shoulder-length dark brown hair messed by the cap, cheeks pink from the outside chill and small smile formed on her lips which was aided by the certain spark in her light blue eyes she looked younger than she really was and boy she was young.

"Last time I saw this look on you it took me three days to persuade you that you weren't succumbing into schizophrenia and a hellish deal to allow other tests," she said simply.

"But that my precious psych was in July," he smiled at her. "Today, in case you didn't happen to notice the slight chill outside we have January. In July you were still an employee of Georgetown University Hospital, now you are a cadet on your way out from the Academy… the youngest since …" he paused dramatically then added with a mock sigh, "…well me."

"And it amuses you," she pointed out.

"I was the one who advised you to apply for the training as it was rather than wait few years," he shrugged. "The academy has a thing for provable geniuses and after a decade being the youngest agent to join FBI it gets boring, besides they need someone young for invitation lectures," he smirked.

"So what's bugging you Doctor Reid?" she asked. "You frowned upon the mention of Hotch, Rossi and Morgan having a talk with Jericho and you changed our plans for the evening so it's obvious that it bothers you immensely."

"Let's say that the aforementioned trio had been acting weird for some time, mid-December some time," he clarified. "At first I thought that perhaps you made a mistake," her eyebrows shot to her hairline and he smiled sheepishly at her before he continued, "but then I realized that you wouldn't put your career in jeopardy and wouldn't fight for correct diagnosis as hard as you did if you weren't sure that I wasn't losing my mind. That ruled out paranoia but I still felt funny, as if I was under strict supervision curtsey to the trio. Then weirder things started happening. You know that I have a tendency to babble once I get myself fixated on a certain subject, sometimes I catch myself on it, sometimes I don't. Usually when I entered babbling mode and didn't stop myself one of them cut me off completely or brought me back to the focus. It hadn't happen since mid December, since then I had to be the one stopping myself from babbling because they just let me talk."

"And it's a bad thing?" she asked skeptically.

"If you add stares when my back is turned, hushed conversations being cut off in the middle when I enter the room yes, it's a bad thing. Then I went through sorting out phase and I realized that to my knowledge I hadn't done anything wrong, stupid, remotely dangerous or irresponsible in a longer while which ruled out my responsibility but the stares didn't stop, they only intensified."

"You think that the talk between Jericho and the three of them has something to do with their unsettling behavior concerning your person," she stated. "I think that I have an idea where it's going but allow me to be frank, that's stupid."

"Why would it be?" he asked curiously and moved his hand away as the waiter placed the tea in front of him. "Thank you," he said to the waiter. "Aren't you the youngest cadet since… well me?"

"My point is that we already discussed it, Reid," she sighed. "Gideon picked you out and he smoothened the path into the academy for you. As for me, no one did it. I applied because you advised me to try out now rather than wait few years because if I wasn't accepted then I still had time to extend my knowledge in peace."

"But you were accepted into the academy, weren't you?" he shrugged. "You are graduating in two weeks, officially and if your snapping off in December is any indication you would be graduating with honors, at least in theoretical areas, maybe less with physical subjects but at the very least you didn't have to get a remedial training which is good," he smiled at her.

She stared at him pointedly.

"So let's sum it up. Provable genius, check. The youngest in the academy, check. Certified psych, check. Triple doctorates, check. About to graduate, check. In need of posting, check. Where in the name of Einstein they should send you? You are board certified psychiatrist and psychologist in the area of abnormal psychology. That my precious cookie, as Garcia likes to say, warrants a posting where your knowledge and expertise would be very much appreciated. CACU or… let's face it, BAU. Though I would like to point out that normally if BAU was hiring an agent I would hear something about it."

"You didn't," she pointed out.

"Which could mean several things," he continued. "The last probable scenario because Hotch would need a very good reason to do this and I hadn't given him one or I would have to personally bring up the idea and had it discussed at great lengths, with every member of the team I should add, is that I'm being replaced. I know I'm not. So we can move out this scenario out of the way. Then there is another, you will end in BAU in general and they are plainly watching me to check how I would react to having another genius in the unit. Except if that was true I wouldn't be as strictly observed as I happen to be and the subject itself would be brought up regardless my personal feelings on the matter."

"Then there is the third scenario," she said. "Let's face it. You are in BAU for almost a decade and you are a SSA for seven years. Traditionally in other units where relocations are more common an agent after three years of being SSA can have a SA assigned for probation period of two years, it's also an unwritten tradition that SSA in most of the units in a matter of a decade should have at the very least two SA as trainees. Since BAU isn't typical unit following that tradition is avoided. However as I said you are a SSA for seven years which means that for all intent and purposes you can officially be assigned as a probationary agent. Amen."

"Not to mention that because I'm a genius, you are a genius and you are about to beat my record as the youngest graduate from academy and I'm the closest in age to you while having superior position…" he smirked. "I'm quite obvious choice."

"Or the only choice," she said pensively. "Ashley Seaver is still SA herself, will be for ten months at the very least, Rossi is her probationary agent. Hotch and Morgan are trying to work around Hotch being both Section Chief and Chief Unit while being single father. Not to mention that Morgan is quite impatient when it comes to teaching and seeing that I'm a graduate or I will be in two weeks… well I have knowledge but I have no experience and Morgan avoided being parried with you until you started showing some sense and first buds of experience of being in the field. He might be older and more experienced now but patience doesn't grow on trees and if he asked to not be probationary agent and he happens to help Hotch in another way…"

"When you are breaking it like that, yes, I'm the only reasonable choice, besides let's face it there is a big chance that we would develop intellectual kinship and the fact that you are a woman and I would have to teach you would allow me to get more confidence with other women so all in all it's all for the better."

"Is it just me or did I hear a hint of amusement in this comment?" she asked curiously. "Because last time I heard that note Doctor Quircle found himself camped out in the bathroom after drinking laxative laced coffee."

"My dear Doctor Cameron aren't you feeling impish tonight?" he smirked.

"Within boundaries of reason, Doctor Reid," she smiled at him. "What do you need to know?"

"Let's start with everything you happen to know about that Wednesday lunch-date and we will take it from there," he smiled back.

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><p>His weekend was immensely funny despite the irritation at his friends which lead him to calling Cameron in the first place. In the end it was a good thing that he was irritated enough to call her because they hardly saw each other since 10th December considering the case load before and after Christmas and fast approaching exams at the academy.<p>

Hanging out with Cameron was always refreshing in some sense, also intellectually challenging on many areas but the most of it, it was funny. There were times when in hers company he felt as if he had never left Cal-Tech and was still studying in between of hailing yet another prank war with a trustworthy companion. There were also times when he felt like a professor mentoring a very eager and attentive student who would one day excel in his area of expertise. There were also times when he felt like a student himself while listening to Cameron. But at the most there were times when he felt that he had an intellectual equal, someone whom he genuinely liked as whole and someone whom he knew liked him just as much.

Despite eleven years and three months age difference and messed up circumstances of their first meeting and the intellectual war which had followed their first meeting Cameron was his friend and a dear friend on that. One that understood his fear of developing schizophrenia at some point of his life, one that devoted everything to prove him otherwise, one to whom he owed his sanity and improving health.

First days of July along with two months worth of enforced vacation (standard two weeks at the end and six weeks worth of forced time off which came from late June troubles with Bureau) had found him with the return of killer migraines, ones which he knew weren't physical symptom, hallucinations that followed and the worries over his job had forced him to admit to himself the truth.

He was going crazy. Period. Sure he passed the mark where he had the highest chance for developing schizophrenia but he was already in increased risk group taking into account that his mum was paranoid schizophrenic and schizophrenia was genetically passed illness, he was a genius with intelligence quotient of 187 and schizophrenia was more like to affect highly intelligent people, he was a man and schizophrenia affected more men than women and he was a drug-addict and drug usage no matter how short-lived it was increased chances at developing schizophrenia.

With that in mind after two days worth hellish migraine after which he barely dragged himself out of the bed towards the telephone he called Psychiatric Department at Georgetown University Hospital and asked for an appointment with a psychiatrist.

6th July, ten o'clock in the morning, in the office of Doctor Cameron, room 777. He intended to show himself up there already knowing the diagnosis and trying to persuade whomever Doctor Cameron happened to be to give him anti-psychotic medication or at least to have him admitted for observation.

He didn't however expected what happened. Nor the fact that Doctor Cameron happened to be a provable genius with intelligence rivaling his own and while with not officially specified specialty on the subject of schizophrenia her expertise and knowledge was putting his own into shame.

What was supposed to be a half of hour worth appointment during which he intended to achieve his aim of persuading the doctor that he needed the medication and could possibly be an undiagnosed schizophrenic had turned into three hours worth discussion which by the end had turned into hissed match (at least from his side) and had ended with him being admitted to psychiatric ward with sings of nervous breakdown which could possibly be induced by stressful work.

For three days hour after hour they were trading arguments over him having schizophrenia back and forth, with him persuading Cameron that he was schizophrenic and Cameron persuading him that he wasn't (which was crazy by definition because it was a rarity in the history of psychiatric medicine when a patient insisted on having mental illness while his doctor was strongly convinced that the patient didn't have one at all or at least not life-affecting one).

After twenty-five hours worth, three days long discussion Cameron finally lost her patience with him and they struck a deal. He had give her two weeks to prove that he wasn't schizophrenic and that his symptoms were a sign of another illness and if she failed to give him correct, reasonable diagnosis then she would admit that yes, he was schizophrenic, thank you very much, and that she will officially diagnose him with schizophrenia.

First thing she had done after he agreed to the deal was putting him on clorazepine and keeping him on it for a week while issuing battery of medical tests on him in between of psychotherapy. Being on medication calmed him down until on Monday morning, on the eight day of the therapy Cameron sat down on his bed, pulled her hair in a ponytail and with a glare which could easily rival Hotch's 'I'm THE Alpha Male' glare she told him that paranoid he was, except he wasn't schizophrenic and that for the last seven days instead of being on anti-psychotic medication he was on placebo and in spite of not being medicated he was improving.

That statement left him speechless for few minutes until Cameron patiently explained the possible underlying cause of his headaches and hallucinations. Rare genetic disorder that while in general affecting patient's liver could manifest with neuropsychiatric symptoms and that as far as she could tell after strict observation and battery of medical tests he was showing and experiencing all of them.

The last medical test which had been done on Saturday was liver biopsy which showed steatosis, increased glycogen and cooper levels. His officially confirmed diagnosis was Wilson's disease which through the past year was very slowly developing and with neuropsychiatric symptoms it could show at any time past liver centered 6-20 years. It was a life-time condition which had only one cure which was liver transplant, unadvisable in early stage of the disease. But it was manageable with proper medication, diet and keeping oneself in shape. It also didn't prevent one from working wherever one was pleased to work and while psychiatric appointments were mandatory so were appointments with hepatologists to monitor the progress which in the early stages was painstakingly slow if the disease was diagnosed properly and it was.

When few weeks later, he asked her how she knew what she was looking for in his case she gave in and admitted that she was a Wilsonite herself, in her case the disease didn't develop yet but she had genetic tests done which showed that at some point she might develop it and with genetic tests predicting the chances for developing the disease the best course of action was delaying the chances by keeping to low-cooper diet and going to mandatory appointments with hepatologist.

That admission in the end had won her his improving respect and he found himself admitting that he genuinely liked her as a person. Liked because Cameron had something about her eyes and smile which in some weird way made her similar to Garcia, you either liked her or you avoided her like plague. Physically there wasn't anything about Cameron which attracted him to her, intellectually however after initial crash they connected and the more they talked the better they felt in each others company.

He was an only child and in the crazy, slightly dysfunctional BAU family for years he had been the youngest brother with a perchance for getting himself in trouble and even though Ashley had been in BAU for over a year she still had problems with fitting herself into the position in the family, she kept to herself and seemed to refuse the position of the youngest sister. Cameron was a different basket altogether, Cameron was definition of the younger sister to him. Funny and intelligent with whom he felt deeply connected, almost the same though slightly different way like with J.J. but with J.J. he was the younger brother, with Cameron he was older.

The intellectual connection with Cameron was a thing he found himself wanting to explore on his own, after all he was allowed to have friends outside of BAU and frankly he liked grating on Morgan's nerves with sudden seemingly secretive smile as a part of the discussion during lunch made him recall an earlier conversation with Cameron.

He had been suspected of having a girlfriend and had been subjected to an evening with Morgan, Garcia and J.J. picking on him and observing him like a trio of hawks if whatever or not he happened to be answering texts during the evening or flirting with anybody. He hadn't done either of those things which seemed to confuse them even more.

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><p>He smirked to himself when he heard familiar footsteps behind his back as he waited for the elevator. Morgan. Messing with one's mind was a double-edged sword and now that he was aware of possible reason for <em>Reid's watch<em> he decided that it was the highest time for _let's mess with Morgan's mind_.

"Pretty Boy," Morgan said cheerfully. "How was your weekend?"

"Intellectually challenging and physically draining yet still refreshing," Spencer summed up.

"How physically draining?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"Very," Spencer said and grinned, let Morgan think what he wants to think. "And informative. Did you know that there existed twelve unique ways of how to please a woman?"

He looked at Morgan, still grinning and inwardly he snickered. Seeing Morgan slightly slack-jawed was a rare sight, reducing him into this state without pointing out the most unusual statistic was even better.

"I'm not even asking," Morgan said finally when the elevator dinged and the door slid open.

"Good because I have absolutely no intention of sharing that information," Spencer quipped as he walked into the elevator and pushed sixth floor. "Not even or rather especially with you."

After that comment he started whistling quietly to Abba's When I Kissed a Teacher.

By the time Morgan gather his wit to ask a question Spencer was saved by the door sliding open and Garcia entering his vision.

"Good morning Starshine!" he quipped. "The earth says hello! I saw it at Starbucks this morning and couldn't help thinking how much it reminded me of you Garcia," he added cheerfully as he pulled a box with a muffin he really purchased at Starbucks (though he gave quite generous tip for whipped cream topping to have a smiley face).

He handed stunned Garcia the box and made it to his desk before she had a chance to react.

Ashley was already at her desk with her nose buried deep in a book.

"One for the lady, good morning Starshine," he smiled as he placed the coffee he was holding on her desk.

"Well good morning, what about yours?" Ashley asked surprised.

"I had a yummy one at home," he said simply. "Hey Hotch," he added as he spotted Hotch from the corner of his eye. "Want a cookie? Chocolate and coconut. Delicious. Ashley?" he turned back to her.

"Good weekend?" Hotch asked skeptically as he approached him.

"Uneventful but very pleasing," Spencer confirmed as he placed his messenger bag on the desk and dug in for the container with cookies. "And no, you don't have to have me drug-tested… Though after that comment you probably should, denial is after all a first sign. But I'm quite convinced that I will be clean… Though the coffee this morning tasted slightly funny… but that was probably powdered sugar I dropped into sugar container by accident three days ago. So… cookie?"

He opened the container and offered it to Hotch whose eyebrows shot into hairline.

"Thank you," Hotch said cautiously as he pulled one cookie from the container and gave it a stare.

"Ashley?" Spencer turned to her.

"Maybe later," she said cautiously.

"After Hotch ascertains that they aren't poisonous," Spencer quipped. "Don't worry they aren't though if they were I doubt that having Section Chief and Chief Unit test them would be a brilliant idea. But if they happen to be the ambulatory is on the second floor and I promise to not resist during the arrest."

"Arrest for what?" Rossi asked curiously.

"Poisoning Hotch," Spencer said simply. "Want a cookie, Rossi? We were just discussing whatever or not poisoning Section Chief and Chief Unit would be good idea. I mean I was considering the scenario and the two of them were giving me weird looks."

"Maybe later," Rossi grimaced.

"Suit yourself then," Spencer shrugged and grabbed one cookie himself. He consumed it in two bites and smirked at the other three, "Delicious."

That seemed to prompt Hotch into taking a bite of his. He bit the half and munched before he swallowed and said, "Tasty, not overly sugary, very heavy on chocolate and coconut though."

As Hotch took another bite the other two dug into the container Spencer held up for them. Then he spotted J. J. entering his vision and grinned before he said, "Cookie J.J.?"

"Homemade?" J.J. asked curiously as she approached them.

"Yup," he confirmed.

"By you?" she added.

"Very tasty though," Hotch said. "You really should try them."

"Have you ever seen Hitchcock's Psycho?" Spencer asked curiously. "Norman Bates' mother and lover die there from strychnine poisoning."

"Why are you saying this?" J. J. asked skeptically as she stared first at the cookie she was holding then at him.

"Because it's an interesting movie and because I'm in mood for pulling one over you. Besides if I was really trying to poison your lot would I be openly discussing it with you? I had my psych evaluation at the beginning of the December and I distinctly remember passing it," Spencer said simply. "Though I was recovering from quite vicious cold by then and I was slightly deaf in left ear and I might have heard wrong… On the other hand I've seen the note and I remember that it said that I passed it."

"Don't worry, Boy Wonder just had a very good weekend and is in incredibly good mood," Morgan snickered. "How old was she?"

"Thirty if you meant whiskey," Spencer said simply. "Half my age plus four if you meant the company."

With Wilson's disease drinking was out of bounds not that he drunk much or frequently. Never too much of a drinker on team's nights out he regularly ended as designed driver even though he drove just as rarely as he drunk. But lately his avoidance of liver-affecting substances captured team's eyes and slowly started being questioned and while he still avoided drinking like a plague he mentioned having a drink or two in about ten days to two weeks frequency, just to throw them off the scent.

"And company's name is?" Garcia asked curiously as she stepped from behind Morgan's back.

"Leona," Spencer said simply.

Cameron's third name was Leona and he only learned it by accident since it wasn't mentioned on any kind of paperwork other than birth certificate and they really didn't need to know her first or last name.

"Where she works?" Garcia asked curiously.

"You are asking as if I was going to tell you, Penelope," he smirked. "Not a chance. My private life is what it is, my private life. When it will start affecting my work you can worry."

"We are only worrying about you, my Baby Genius," Garcia quipped.

"I know," he nodded. "But Mum," he put heavy accent on mum, "I'm thirty-one, not eleven. I've been employed by our government for almost ten years without a month that I'm missing to a decade. I'm allowed to drink alcohol, drive a car, I'm licensed to carry a gun even if I don't shot much or often. I live on my own and I rarely come home to have dinners with you. I assure you that I can take really good care of myself and any possible partner and because I want to have a partner I'd rather test the waters myself rather than have any future Mrs Reid introduced to the family first because eventually I want to have someone to come home for. Because if you kept peeking into my private life I would eventually have to get a cat to have someone to talk to at home," he whined.

"You heard our boy, he is a big one, he can take care of himself," Morgan smiled.

"Did you two just conjointly claimed me as your son?" Spencer asked skeptically. "You know that I was joking, don't you?"

"Face it Reid, until someone really young turns up on the team you are going to be the baby," Ashley smiled at him.

"Only because I was really young when I came to work here and because you are resisting being the team's baby even if I'm older than you by twenty months and three weeks and two days. Personally I think that for the point to really sink I need to go to drug-store and purchase a pacifier for you," Spencer snorted.

"Come within twenty feet of me with one and you will see what I can do," Ashley said seriously even though she raised one eyebrow daringly and smirked immediately after saying it.

"Dad!" he whined. "Ashley is picking on me and she doesn't want a pacifier! She must be broken. Can we get another baby? The one who wouldn't object to a pacifier? Pretty please."

"If you are really good boy perhaps you will find one in an Easter egg, Spencer," Hotch sighed. "All right people, enough of fun, let's get to work."

Spencer smirked to himself as he picked another cookie, grabbed first teabag his hand found in his bag and wandered to the kitchenette to made himself a cup of tea before digging into paperwork.

Having someone messing with your mind was definitely funnier when you knew why they were messing with you and you could mess back. Besides if all of his and Cameron's assumptions were true messing with his mind would end in a matter of two weeks.

By lunchtime he had ninety percents of his paperwork done and he decided to leave the other ten percents to after lunch to have something to do in the afternoon at least then Morgan and Ashley wouldn't have to try to convince him that the cases they slipped to him just came by. Some things simply never changed and that was one of them.

Wisely, even though he knew that he picked just the right time to have a lunch with Cameron he avoided meeting with her because as soon as he entered the lobby he realized that he might be followed when Agent Robins from counter-terrorism called out Rossi's name.

Two could play this game and he had full intention of having fun out of it. As soon as he left the building he turned left and quickly hid behind the column. Rossi left the building and stopped twenty feet away from the entrance as he looked around.

To Spencer's inner mirth barely ten seconds later he heard Hotch and Morgan approaching.

"If he headed to the town for lunch he didn't have enough time to make it to the checkpoint," Rossi muttered. "And I saw him leaving the building through the lobby. He always have lunches in the town on Monday if we are in Quantico."

"Well he didn't turn himself invisible," Morgan sighed.

"No, he didn't," Hotch confirmed. "He just realized that he was being followed and decided to turn the table. Twenty bucks say that he planted himself behind a column."

"You would win them if you said the left one," Spencer quipped as he peeked from behind his hiding spot. "Planning to join me or planning to drag me upstairs?"

"The former," Rossi said with small smile. "We realized that you are a big boy now and the four of us need to have man-to-man talk."

"Am I in trouble?" Spencer asked curiously.

"Do you know something we don't?" Hotch asked.

"Hotch, I know that you are Section and Unit Chief but with me in the equation this question is pretty dumb seeing that I'm a provable genius," Spencer said sheepishly. "But then again there are areas where the three of you can kick my butt severely," he added with small smile.

"Like shooting," Morgan quipped.

"Excuse me I passed my last marksmanship evaluation without retesting," Spencer huffed in mocked offence.

"Barely and by two points," Morgan snickered.

"Don't mock him Morgan," Hotch said lightly. "Reid has adrenaline driven aim."

"A sheet of paper can only kill me if it gives me a paper-cut which would have to get infected and I would have to be completely distracted for a long period of time to miss it before infection would turn to sepsis which could eventually kill me. As it is my chances for dying because of a sheet of paper are exceedingly slim," Spencer said simply. "But thanks for the advice, I'm definitely going to think about potentially lethal infections next time I would be tested for marksmanship. Maybe I can out-shot you then."

"So are we walking or driving?" Rossi asked.

"I was heading to Alberto's," Spencer shrugged. "And it's not very cold actually and coming from me it's saying something."

"Then a walk it is, actually it can help with appetite," Hotch said.

The walk to Alberto wasn't very long and the talk during it was regular teasing which sometimes happened when the four of them, though rarely, happened to go out together during office hours. This time the teasing was marksmanship oriented and ended with Spencer after over six years caving in and admitting that he wasn't aiming at Dowd's leg but his forehead and taking pleasure from reminding Hotch of one time when Hotch offered to tutor him before marksmanship evaluation on April Fool's Day and had ended with dislocated finger. Hotch quickly countered that jibe by saying that when sheets of paper were concerned Spencer had a tendency of aiming for the groin of the attacker. Spencer's answer to that jibe was that groin happened to have more nerve-endings than stomach and any man shot in that area would simply cave over and howl in pain on the ground so after all a shot in the groin was worth something.

"Hogan's Alley," Rossi quipped. "Your first year in BAU, Aaron. Paintball battle between BAU and White Collar from Washington. Gestein barely passed marksmanship evaluation and during whole afternoon had shot all but one agent. Guess who and where?" he turned to Spencer and Morgan.

"Bob Gestein?" Spencer asked curiously.

"Yep," Rossi confirmed. "Why you are asking?"

"Because that would explain a lot," Spencer said simply when Morgan howled with laughter and Hotch glared at him. Then upon Rossi's curious expression he added, "During my first month at BAU Gideon had taken the team to Hogan's Alley for team-bonding and we had a match with counter-terrorism. During the flag battle I managed to shot only one agent, it was Bob Gestein and accidentally I hit him in the groin. Hotch was standing next to me and suddenly he had an attack of a laughter so hysterical that he was shot himself by Gestein's partner, Horsey was his name if I remember correctly."

"Boy Wonder is selling himself short Rossi," Morgan quipped. "He might have hit only one man in the battle but in inter-team battle, three on three he was the last man standing, with Hotch and Gideon being out-shot."

"Who was the runner up?" Rossi asked curiously.

"Morgan," Hotch and Spencer coughed in unison.

"Because that little vermin was hiding behind the dryers in the Laundromat," Morgan protested. "I knew that I had a chance to shot him if only he peeked his big head out of his hiding spot. He barely passed marksmanship remedial. Shitter shooter knew no man, I tell you."

"You are one sore loser, Morgan," Spencer snickered.

"Shut it, Pretty Boy, I'm telling that story," Morgan chuckled. "So what our genius rookie does, he takes off a sneaker and aims it at the farthest corner from himself. I turn up to see what it was and that little pest shoot me straight to the chest when I was turning back around to face him."

"Hudson and Watson had pretty stupid expressions when you left the Laundromat with a new 'wound'," Spencer supplied. "And I wasn't a pest."

"You were," Morgan snickered. "Your first two months in BAU I wanted to wring your neck, once I had to lock Watson in supply closet because he was actually about to do it."

"What changed?" Rossi asked curiously.

"Unsub on a psychotic break, about twice in size of Morgan and just as strong as him. It was a simple, regular interview seemingly nothing to worry and the third time I have been out during a case without Hotch or Gideon as the company. Before I knew what happened the man has Morgan's gun pressed to his forehead," Spencer said pensively.

"And Rossi, trust me that when we were negotiating on Hogan's Alley Watson didn't allow Reid to say a single word during negotiation. I practically saw myself in the coffin when I realized how slim were my chances for survival," Morgan sighed.

"You are the one to talk," Spencer quipped. "You are here now, aren't you?"

"Because of your unique ability to negotiate with mentally unstable unsubs. Face it Pretty Boy, you are team's resident psychiatrist without actual diploma," Morgan quipped.

"Happens when by the age of ten you have to negotiate with your mother who wants to kill neighbor's dog because she was convinced that it was Satan in disguise who wants to strangle me in my sleep," Spencer sighed and upon a very concerned look on the faces of other three he added quickly, "Side-effect of wrongly adjusted medication. She never tried it later. Simply kept to her lectures or writing. The fact that the neighbors had moved away few weeks later also helped a lot."

"What happened to the other two?" Rossi changed the subject though it was just unlucky like discussing Spencer mum's episodes.

"Adrian Bale. Bombing in Boston," Hotch said quietly. "We would have lost Morgan and Reid too if they didn't get themselves stuck in the traffic."

"Only because I let him pilot me through 'this is the shortest way to get there I swear, it will save us a lot of time'," Morgan sighed. "Saved our lives in the end. Trip to Boston never ended well for us," he added quietly. "Perhaps this town is jinxed."

"If we will think about Boston this way it would be," Spencer grimaced. "Time for positive thinking. Boston is a very interesting town on its own filled with wonderful people, good food and happens to be a magnet for crazy unsubs…"

"Your positive thinking turned into reverse psychology Boy Wonder," Morgan grimaced.

"Maybe that would work," Spencer muttered. "It's a horrible place and I don't want to step a foot within a mile of it for the rest of my life. Field office in there is hopeless, has bad coffee and is staffed by bureaucrats who are lucky when they catch a cold, let alone an unsub. Now, that was better?"

"I don't know if I should suspend you without pay for a week for insulting the bureau or buy you a coffee for unique optimism and quick thinking," Hotch sighed.

"I'll take the coffee if you don't mind," Spencer said quickly. "Last time I ended at home for a week I ended practically clawing the paint off the walls from the boredom."

"You could always use it as vacation time," Morgan pointed out. "Go to the mountains, learn how to ski or snowboard."

"With my luck I would end with broken leg on the first day, surgery and three months worth recovery period. I'd rather get a cold, less complicated and easier to cure," Spencer quipped.

That particular discussion had ended when the plates arrived. For five minutes they were occupied with digging into their lasagna which at Alberto's was the best in whole Quantico.

As he ate Spencer pondered upon THE talk that seemed to be approaching as fast as the food from their plates was indicated. It was almost ironic that they agreed to go with him to Alberto's to have this particular discussion.

After satisfying the first hunger and settling themselves to pick on remains of lunch lazily the other three had exchanged glances before their gazes had settled on Spencer.

"So this is THE talk," Spencer said simply as he pushed his plate away for an inch and reached for his citrine tea. "Am I in deep trouble?"

"Not really," Hotch said simply. "Unless there is really something we should know." Hotch paused, took a sip of his tea and asked bluntly, "How would you feel if BAU was to hire a genius?"

"Depends," Spencer shrugged and he scratched his chin. "Mostly from your answer to my question. Am I being replaced or reinforced? Because if it's the former I would sulk and I wouldn't make their lives easier. If it's the other I would be cautiously optimistic that we would manage to get along and I promise that I wouldn't make it worse for them than it already is. I mean a new agent in BAU… it's never exactly easy. So which one is it?"

"Reinforcement part," Hotch said.

"Then I'm good," Spencer nodded. "However I can practically smell that there is more into this talk than hiring a genius. You three were pretty fixated on watching my back when it was turned lately."

"You…" Morgan started.

"Yes, I picked it. Didn't really pay too much attention to it for as long as we were on the case but after… well you are profilers but so am I. SSA on that but so are you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that one is under strict supervision, it however takes a genius to figure out the reason," Spencer said simply.

"You know the reason?" Rossi asked skeptically. "How come?"

"I think I do," Spencer nodded. "Should I amuse you?"

"Go ahead," Morgan nodded.

"Kate Jane Cameron. Doctor of psychiatric medicine and psychology, along with PhD from geography and BA from mathematics. Born 01:09, 9th January 1992 to Cynthia Jane and Jack Christopher Cameron, retired high school chemistry teacher and Chief of Organized Crimes Unit in FBI field office in Chicago. She turned twenty a week ago and in two weeks is supposed to graduate from the academy. The allure of experienced psychiatrist and psychologist along with intelligence quotient of 183, echoic memory and fluent knowledge of ten languages is what prompts you to ask whatever or not I would be ready to be Doctor Cameron's probationary agent. You were considering me because Rossi has Ashley under his wings, Morgan is too impatient to train a complete rookie and you are too busy," Spencer said on one breath.

Hotch's, Morgan's and Rossi's slightly dropped jaws were enough of an answer and it prompted to freak them out even more. They really deserved it for the torture of the last few weeks.

"There is more to that," he added quickly. "You discussed the issue for a long time and you know that you are against Willcox from Washington's CACU. On Wednesday, 11th during lunch, 1 PM on that, the three of you had meet Jericho who happens to be Doctor Cameron's training agent to discuss the issue of her posting in BAU. You meet here, Jericho had spaghetti Bolognese drunk coffee, two sugars, no milk. You," he nodded at Hotch, "had spinach lasagna and green tea. You," he nodded at Morgan, "took Cesar salad with baked potatoes and tomato juice. You," he nodded at Rossi, "had chosen ravioli and plain black tea, no sugar and no citrine. Hotch paid from the official card, together it cost you thirty-seven dollars and fifty-nine cents because you were given a discount. Jericho left at 01:37 PM, you discussed something for next seven minutes and left together at 01:45 PM. That would be it."

He smirked at them.

"Reid you are a genius," Morgan said slowly.

"Provable one, thank you," Spencer nodded and grinned.

"You are a genius but you are not almighty and omniscient," Morgan clarified. "On Wednesday you were in Norfolk interviewing a serial rapist and you didn't come back to Quantico until 02:10 PM because when I called you at 2 you were still on the train."

"That's right," Spencer confirmed.

"Then how can you tell us exactly what we are planning and what we were doing on a day you were away from the office?" Rossi asked simply.

"And how did you know whom we were discussing?" Hotch asked curiously.

"It's quite simple you know," Spencer shrugged. "I know for a fact that the three of you had lectures at the academy this semester. You wouldn't entertain the idea of hiring a rookie if aforementioned rookie didn't excel at something and hadn't manage to capture the attention not only of one but three of you. I didn't have lectures scheduled for this semester because if you three are giving lectures during the semester I never do. Without doubt you talked with Doctor Cameron, testing the waters, trying to learn something which would help you make a decision. However there is one question you either didn't ask or didn't get an answer for and as it is I know that it was the former. The question you didn't ask is who advised Doctor Cameron to try out to the academy when she did."

"And what we would receive for an answer?" Morgan stared at him.

"I believe that one way or another it would be something along of SSA Dr Spencer Reid or that crazy psycho who was trying to scare away copulating cats by throwing balloons filled with tomato juice at those poor, innocent animals. It would depend from when you asked," Spencer shrugged.

"What's her third name?" Morgan narrowed his eyes as he looked at Spencer more closely.

"Leona," Spencer quipped.

"Twelve unique ways of how to please a woman," Morgan muttered.

"Half my age plus four," Rossi added pensively.

"Reid…" Hotch started.

"Twelve unique ways of how to please a woman. Allow me to recite," Spencer said quickly. "One: go shopping with her for boots because she stepped on a nail and destroyed her old boots in the middle of the winter on a snowy day. Two: pay for the boots when she had her back turned and happens to be eyeing a wallet, pay for the wallet too and say that it looks nice and practical. Three: apologize for not having birthday present for her and promise to make it up to her before the day is out. Four: pick a chocolate perfume as a present at the perfumery because you know that she would love it as she cannot eat chocolate but she loves the smell. Five: invite her to the cinema and pay for everything she picks up, steal her wallet if you must. Six: let her chose the movie. Seven: upon leaving the cinema if bothered by stinking drunk who thinks that she is a very pretty hooker, draw yourself to your full height and send a murderous glare at the offender while saying that 'this lady can have you institutionalized in top security psychiatric hospital in a matter of an hour and I'm licensed to carry a gun and I won't hesitate to use it if you don't remove yourself from our company in ten seconds flat'. Eight: admit that you never watched Pride and Prejudice even if you did and offer to pick it up from the video-store. Nine: cook her a dinner, use a recipe you recently picked up and under no circumstance let her clean after dinner. Ten: watch Pride and Prejudice with interest. Eleven: when you realize that it's very late offer her to spend the night and insist that she takes a bed while you will take the couch, threaten to handcuff her to the bed if you must. Twelve: wake up before her and pick up breakfast from her favorite café even if it's really out of the way and say that it wasn't even if she knows that you know that she knows that it was. There is also thirteenth: remember that a genius doesn't get mad but simply even and because she is a genius and happens to be your friend let her partake in painstaking, mind-messing revenge you are going to bestow on your colleagues on Monday morning for questioning your sanity for thirty-three days. Poisoning was her idea, cookies also were hers."

"Reid…" Hotch sighed.

"If she was a blonde and more filled out in all the right places I wouldn't hesitate to continuously ask her out, repeatedly, maybe even marry if I was lucky. As it is I find her company intellectually challenging, greatly informative, refreshing and at times incredibly funny. I value both her professional and personal opinion and I admire her stubbornness and dedication to her patients, I know that she would be just as much if not even more stubborn and dedicated in the field. I know that I can trust her to have my back because I could trust in her when I couldn't trust myself, she hadn't failed it, hadn't failed me. She saved my sanity and my health and in some extension my life, making sure that she will make it through the probation period alive, unharmed and experienced as an agent is a small compensation for what she had done for me."

"What she had done for you?" Hotch asked pointedly.

"You remember that the team was enforced on six weeks worth leave during the summer," Spencer sighed. "You also remember that I used to have incredibly painful and annoying migraines. When we were forced to leave… It was everything all at once. Stress over what happened, over what is going to happen, my declining health, shitty diet, too much time on my hands, recurring nightmares… Migraines returned with full force but this time they were accompanied by hallucinations, audio and visual. I realized that this was it… End of story, what I always worried for was happening and that was it. So as soon as a migraine lessened I dragged myself to the telephone and made quick appointment with a psychiatrist at Georgetown University Hospital. I was hoping for an old man, used to routine, one hoping for retirement and easy to manipulate to admit to the diagnosis I already knew. What I didn't expect was to butt my head with nineteen years old provable genius whose intelligence rivals mine and knowledge about schizophrenia and cluster A in general can put mine into shame and I happen to have quite extensive knowledge when it comes to schizophrenia and cluster A thank you very much. Let's say that half of an hour appointment had ended with three hours worth hissing match, mostly from my side, and me being admitted as a patient suffering from major depressive episode. We continued the cycle of I'm a paranoid schizophrenic just write the diagnosis in the file you infernal woman and paranoid you are but hardly a schizophrenic for three days before we struck a deal. She will keep me on observation for two weeks and in the meantime she would prove that I'm not a paranoid schizophrenic, if she would fail to find reasonable, medically proved explanation for what was wrong with me then she would cave in and confirm my diagnosis. Guess who won seeing that I'm here and not in a sanitarium."

"What was wrong?" Morgan asked in concern.

"Is, not was," Spencer corrected him simply. "Bad genes and crappy liver. Wilson's disease. Manageable with proper diet and Galzin, continued monitoring of cooper levels and Penicelamine if it happens to go too high. Mandatory checkups with hepatologist and psychiatrist aware of my condition, the later generally as a precaution seeing that in my case Wilson's disease and too high cooper level manifests with neuropsychiatric symptoms like migraines, hallucinations and hand tremors. My hepatologist says that unless I'm planning to take a stray bullet in there my liver would last me at least a decade without me worrying over a transplant which in so far happens to be the only cure for Wilson's disease. And last time I checked and I checked recently Wilson's disease doesn't exclude an agent from the field, the information about my state is listed in my personal files."

"And doctor Cameron would confirm that story if I asked her?" Hotch asked pensively.

"Word for word," Spencer nodded. "Most probably would also throw something about doctors making world's worst patients, self-diagnosis of mental illnesses by people without medical degree and something about my disability to outsmart certified psychiatrist…" he looked at Morgan who had a very confused expression on his face. "Beauty of befriending highly intelligent woman, you trade off compliments just as much as insults though the later aren't traded often and tend to stick to endearing and intellectual side."

"For example?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"For example the newest from Saturday morning and it was a loaded one," Spencer said simply. "Reid, I know that as an analytical mind and triple doctor in scientific fields you cannot resist to test the force of gravitation in nature but could you for the moment stop to consider few outcomes that will eventually follow if you won't try to resist the allure of the force of gravitation successfully? For starters your continuous lost battles will end with severe bruising of your gluteus maximus which come Monday will possibly end with your friends questioning your sexuality and current relationship status. Denial and finding excuses never works, in fact only improves people's desire to prove the denying one wrong. Additionally because of their undeveloped muscles and lack of strength toddlers are greatly prone to falls and losing their balance. Please, prove to me that a thirty-one years old man won't be beat by a thirty months old toddler when it comes to defying the force of gravity on a patch of frozen water in the park. Most people would simply told me to get up and try to maintain balance without making a spectacle of myself. Cameron doesn't make into the range of most people. She can compliment, insult and step on ones ambition in one breath."

"Well it was greatly intellectual," Morgan chuckled.

"And it worked," Spencer snickered. "Well, I almost fell down once afterwards but in so far I'm sticking to the version that this pirouette and arm flapping was fully intended and happened to be a part of a ballet on ice I once saw but for the life of me I cannot remember the title."

"You picked up skiving?" Hotch snickered.

"Learning how to skive Hotch, learning how to skive," Spencer snickered harder. "In so far we managed to cover first two lessons. Up and down and any forward motion without falling into other people counts. Next weekend we are going to work on turning right and left without casualties in other skivers. Hopefully by the end of the winter I will graduate to the level of can be left alone on his own devices for longer than sixty seconds."

"Not before you will learn that for breaking you have skiving boots not snow and other people," Cameron said sweetly as she appeared next to him. "Your report on most common gunshot wounds, I'm not sure if I didn't mix Glock 17 with a Sig Sauer 280 but either way I'm not going to worry because that would be probably my only mistake on theoretical Marksmanship. Hello, Agents Rossi, Hotchner and Morgan, I'm sorry for interrupting but I really needed to return it."

"Going somewhere?" Spencer asked curiously.

"To the hospital," Cameron nodded. "Dorothy Weinstein just had a setback. She is impossibly strong. She decked two orderlies, bit to the blood and bone one nurse and kicked one doctor in the groin. The hospital called me just five minutes ago. I told them to leave her in peace in her room until I will show up and only to observe her."

"Don't you have Theoretical Criminal Statistics like right now?" Spencer asked skeptically.

"I did," Cameron said simply. "Straight A, I have an echoic memory and Statistic was talk oriented not to mention someone tried to distract me on Saturday by quoting statistics every time he attempted to make a fall. Whatever works for you."

"Cookies do," Spencer smirked. "They vanished during the coffee break when I had my back turned away from the desk."

"You profiled the unsub?" Cameron asked curiously.

"I did," Spencer confirmed. "The profile was accurate, it's the man force that prevents me from taking action as I find myself woefully outnumbered."

"You could always ask for reinforcement," Cameron pointed out.

"I'd rather ask for more cookies," Spencer snickered.

"I can go with cherry-vanilla theme in the evening if you will spend a hour over the phone quizzing me on Criminal Law. I'm a multi-tasker but I'm unable to clone myself," Cameron pointed out.

"If you will go with cherry-vanilla and coconut-coffee I will personally drag myself to your place to quiz you," Spencer offered.

"To stake a claim on coconut-coffee," Cameron smirked. "You know that I have edible markers to sign them, don't you?"

"I do, citrine one is very tasty," Spencer nodded. "I'm merely studying growing list of death-treats issued on my person if I happen to come too close to the bowl with cookie dough."

"That or trying to test how many death-threats from me it takes you to get a whack across the head with a spatula," Cameron rolled her eyes. "If my memory serves me well fingers above the bowl warrants a swat with a dishcloth and immediate expulsion from the kitchen area."

"I will wash the dishes," Spencer offered.

"Nuh-hu, you and cookie dough should be kept at least six feet apart for safety reasons," Cameron said pointedly. "Otherwise it mysteriously disappears in alarming speed."

"Fine, I will stick around the stationary phone," Spencer sighed and for better effect pouted.

"I know a person who has a doctorate at pouty lip and kicked puppy eyes, you aren't them and it doesn't work on me," Cameron told him simply. "But you will get additional cookie for trying. Have a good day, gentlemen," she nodded at Hotch, Morgan and Rossi.

With that comment she turned on her heel and left.

"You know that the initial purpose of being probationary agent is keeping the rookie in line not the other way around, don't you?" Hotch asked curiously.

"Me being kept in line is purely excluded to Cameron's cookies and generally her kitchen," Spencer said simply. "And people living in glass-houses shouldn't cast stones Hotch, you were trying to get away from my desk way too fast."

"They were good cookies," Hotch said simply prompting small grin from Morgan and Rossi. "On an office day between Garcia and Cameron …"

"Within a month the unit would have to go on a diet," Rossi finished. "But it would be definitely worth it. But the mention of the hospital has me slightly worried."

"For no reason," Spencer shook his head. "Dorothy Weinstein is a paranoid schizophrenic on the move from DC to Oregon, her son wants to keep her closer to his home so now that his children are old enough to understand their grandmother's illness at least enough to realize when she is suffering from an episode… Because of Dorothy's size and strength and initial illness her doctors had agreed to prepare her for the move. She had been consulted by three of them but one died, one already flew to Oregon and Cameron is the only familiar doctor to her, just enough to convince her to calm down, at least enough to the state in which she could be given Haldol for the transport. If I remember correctly she was scheduled to be moved this afternoon."

"She appeared to be strangely relaxed about it," Morgan said pointedly.

"A matter of approach, I bet that orderlies and the nurse went straight for force, most probably so did the other doctor. Cameron is not one for physical force, intellectual beating of the opponent point by point sure, but physical force is not her forte, neither is mine," Spencer said simply. "I'm not worried for her and if she is still on the hiring list after our lengthy conversation neither should you. She will be fine."


	2. Chapter 2: New Routines

DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my first fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

><p>Routine was a word that tore families apart, destroyed seemingly happy, normal but on some level dull lives. Routine made one an easy target for a stalker. Routine was also something which kept families together.<p>

Routine was unavoidable in a family and on some weird, dysfunctional level they were a family and they had their routines.

One of the routines was that if the team was in town on Tuesday and Hotch didn't specified the orders for the next day otherwise they would all arrive in clusters.

Hotch would leave his flat earlier because Jack had lessons on Tuesday later than usual and he would drop Jack at Jessica's place because on Tuesday's Hotch was coming to work about a hour earlier to leave about an hour earlier too to spend more time with Jack. On his way to Quantico, Hotch would pick up Rossi from his house and they would drive in together.

Since JJ's return to the team she too established a routine, early morning jog with Ashley in the park between their houses. They would drive to Quantico together and arrive together or right after Hotch and Rossi.

For Morgan for years it was a Tuesday routine to drive to the swimming pool not far away from Spencer's place, make a handful lengths of the pool before hitting neighbor Starbucks for two coffees and then driving by Spencer's place to pick him up because it was conveniently on the way.

Few months ago Morgan's usual routine was changed slightly by Garcia's and Kevin's appearance because on Tuesday morning the two of them were playing squash at the same gym and since it was between Morgan's and Garcia's flats and on the way through Spencer's it was unanimous decision that the sporty ones would go in the early morning to swim or play squash and that they would pick Spencer on their way to Quantico. As the team they arrived as the last but still with usually twenty minutes to eight in the morning to spare.

7:10 AM Spencer found himself standing in his usual spot from where Morgan always picked him up and was waiting for the other three to arrive. He never had to wait longer than five minutes so he wasn't worried but nevertheless he scanned the street for Morgan's SUV.

Ah, there it was, 7:11 AM right on time. As usual he got into the front passenger seat and took the coffee from the holder as he greeted the other three. But then the routine changed.

"So, Boy Wonder how much out of the way is out of the way?" Morgan chuckled.

"What you mean?" Spencer blinked owlishly.

"Your bright-eyed bundle of joy, Genius," Morgan snickered.

"1263 35th Street Northwest," Spencer answered simply.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, don't you happen to live on the same street under number 1541?" Morgan asked skeptically. "How much out of the way is that?"

"I said that cafe was out of the way, I never said that her place was," Spencer shrugged. "7:13, she should still be at home if you are offering to pick her up, starts at nine o'clock anyway."

"Someone mentioned cookies," Morgan said simply.

"I get the extra cookie," Spencer glared at Morgan.

"Stop there my sweetness, who dares to invade my territory of baked goods?" Garcia quipped.

"Reid's rookie," Morgan chuckled. "Or rather rookie to be if she survives next two weeks and graduation."

"Reid is getting a rookie?" Garcia asked. "Why I don't know anything about it? And a girl on that?"

"If it makes you feel better Garcia, they only told me yesterday," Spencer quipped.

"You figured it out earlier," Morgan pointed out.

"Yeah, Friday after work," Spencer snorted. "With her help."

"Ah, ha!" Morgan chuckled. "I knew it."

"You can thank her personally for being observant because if she wasn't I assure you that yesterday instead of cookies you would get laxative laced coffee," Spencer snorted. "I was really at wits end on Friday."

"1263," Morgan said as he pulled the SUV to the side. "Call."

"Yes dad," Spencer quipped as he reached for his phone and punched Cameron's number. "Hey, what's up Doc?" he asked cheerfully. "Ready to go? I'm fetching a ride and we have one spot available… Okay, we will wait. Black SUV," he hung up and turned to Morgan. "Two minutes. She is leaving Saxbyss."

"That coffee shop at the corner of the street we crossed?" Morgan asked. "Isn't it by any chance the same place you haunt on Wednesday morning?"

"As it is, yes. Why you are asking?" Spencer asked curiously.

"How long she lives in the area?" Morgan asked.

"Seven years, five months and two weeks. Your point being?" Spencer shrugged.

"That I know that you live in the area since you left the academy," Morgan said.

"Since I became SSA," Spencer corrected him.

"Whatever," Morgan snorted. "You live on the same street for seven years and you are telling me that you only meet her last year."

"It's a very long street, you know, and a lot of people happen to live here," Spencer said simply and he smirked. "Come to think about it I might have meet her before. At least I think I did. She definitely looked differently, was with company and you can kick me later for that… I profiled her as a high school student, artist, an outsider but a very warm and helping soul who walked kids to primary school."

"You what?" Morgan snickered.

"Oh, you should have seen her around that time. Long, wispy, handmade skirts in deep colors… if my memory serves me right once it was deep purple and that was probably the only reason I paid attention because I liked the color and I took a closer look to remember it better as I wanted to buy a scarf in similar color. Then it was crimson red and later lime green. First time it was winter and she had knee length woolen black coat and lime green cap. Next time it was spring but the other year, she had jeans jacket and dark green jumper. The third time it was beginning of the summer and she had white blouse and sandy sweater. On all three times she was accompanied by a blonde boy who at that time had between ten to twelve years old and looked at her with total admiration. Oh, and she had longer hair and wore them in that weird, tiny braids pulled back into a ponytail."

"How many times I told you that your memory creeps me out?" Morgan asked skeptically.

"Seventeen times I think, though I might have missed few times when I was otherwise occupied," Spencer quipped. "Here she is," he added as he looked in side mirror and saw Cameron hurrying through the snow, coffee in hand, lime green cap firmly holding her wild locks.

"You two are going to talk to momma over the coffee break," Garcia quipped. "And that one is definitely mine for the ride."

"Be my guest," Spencer snickered as he opened the door and hopped off to open the door for Cameron. "My lady, your chariot awaits," he said as he held it for her.

"My spidery senses detect a rouse," Cameron quipped. "Hello," she said to the other three.

"Kate Cameron, Penelope Garcia and Kevin Lynch," Morgan said. "Pen, Kevin, this is Reid's rookie."

"Reid's supposed rookie," Cameron added when Spencer hopped into his seat. "Official postings won't be handed until graduation which will take place on 28th January so until then it's a very interesting rumor."

"Pretty strong rumor, mind you," Morgan chuckled as he started driving.

"Rookie in BAU," Garcia pointed out. "Happens rarely like twice in a decade."

"Trice in a decade is unnerving, isn't it?" Spencer snickered.

"It just makes one wonder what kind of awesome powers or skeletons you happen to hold in your closet, Cutie," Garcia turned to Cameron. "How old are you pumpkin?"

"Twenty, as of last week," Cameron said simply.

"Reid, she is beating your record," Garcia quipped.

"It's the highest time someone did," Spencer quipped. "You have no idea how happy it makes me that I'm not going to be the youngest cadet to graduate from the academy."

"Until the moment I would say who suggested me that I should try out," Cameron said sweetly. "One way or another you will be mentioned."

"I hate you," Spencer muttered.

"Fine, then you don't get a cookie," Cameron said simply. "Cookie anyone?"

"You aren't leaving this car until I will get my coffee-coconut," Spencer objected.

He heard Cameron rummaging through her bag to get out container with cookies and he heard the lid being opened.

"Delicious," Garcia mumbled. "Tastes suspiciously like the ones which Baby Einstein brought yesterday."

"Well he is pretty good cook," Cameron said simply. "His baking powers however need some serious tweaking… in so far the only thing he excels at in this area is eating the cookie dough and pretending that an imaginary cat named Norman ate it… Had me seriously worried first time when it happened," she quipped.

"Imaginary cat named Norman?" Garcia asked.

"The window was open and I saw a cat sitting on the window-sill, pretty attentive pest if you ask me… Went away after I gave it some tuna," Spencer said simply. "For the record she didn't buy it."

"I would have if you didn't have deer caught in the headlights of the coming car expression on your face and fingers in the cookie dough," Cameron shrugged. "Good thing that you did because if I would buy it, you, Mister, would be in serious trouble."

"Awesome powers part, great," Garcia said happily.

"I'm a psych," Cameron said simply.

"Psych as in … dipping into hidden energy and magical ingredients?" Garcia asked curiously.

"Psych as in board certified doctor of psychiatric medicine and abnormal psychology," Cameron clarified. "I also hold PhD in geography and BA in mathematics."

"You are twenty," Garcia pointed out. "More awesome powers, please"

"I know ten languages fluently and I can curse in another five," Cameron offered.

"More," Garcia pressed.

"I happen to have an echoic memory and I can read with 7000 words per minute speed," Cameron added.

"IQ?" Garcia quipped. "More than our Baby Genius?"

"I'm not convinced that one's intelligence can be measure properly but official tests were quite convincingly pointing to number 183… That means that the answer is no though I'm not that far behind."

"She has better social skills," Spencer quipped. "Though as far as medicine is concerned she has bedside manner of a psychopath. Where is my cookie?"

"Only when you are concerned and my patience had been wore incredibly thin. Doctors really make the worst patients," Cameron said simply as she leaned over and put the container with cookie between Morgan and Spencer. "And you deserved every second of what you got."

"I agree," Spencer snickered as he picked coffee-coconut cookie. "Can't say that I'm not thankful," he added as he snagged cherry-vanilla one. "You are a pest."

"And you are thick-headed. I guess that makes us even," Cameron shrugged.

"I detect familiarity," Garcia quipped. "So what's the story?"

"Can't really say," Cameron said slowly. "Hypocritical oath I had to swear on upon leaving medschool. It's called doctor-patient… some kind of ity."

"Confidentiality," Spencer quipped. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, Kitten."

"Ah, that's why I'm not employed by the hospital any longer. Got to remember that this time," Cameron hummed.

"Psych," Spencer snickered.

"Thank you and look who's talking, Nermal," Cameron said simply.

"Nermal, like that cat from Garfield's comics?" Garcia said cheerfully. "Why you are calling him that?"

"Because they are times when I'm barely resisting the utmost desire to put him in the sugar bowl," Cameron quipped.

"If I'm Nermal then you are Arlene because of your unique powers of taking wind of the man's sail," Spencer interjected.

"Only when your baking powers are concerned," Cameron snickered.

"What about skiving abilities?" Morgan chuckled.

"Learning process, he goes with benefit of doubt," Cameron quipped.

"Desist!" Spencer sighed.

"Shutting up," Cameron quipped. "Cookie?"

* * *

><p>Tuesday briefing had turned into the call to Washington where in the woods surrounding Sullivan Lakes a mass grave with fifteen people inside it had been discovered. Tuesday turned into Wednesday which turned into Thursday which from three days had turned into ten.<p>

It was one of the most depressing cases the team has in a longer while and it's ending was just as grim as the case itself was. They did locate the unsub responsible for the murders of fifteen people but the man hadn't allowed the state police to arrest him. He shot five policemen before he was hit by a stray bullet and the team arrived to the man's house just in time to witness the death of the last trooper and to see the massacre that occurred barely few minutes before.

The silence that filled the cabin of the jet was practically ringing in their ears, at least it was for Spencer. JJ and Ashely were sitting in front of him curled close to one another and holding hands. Somewhere behind his back Morgan was listening to his ipod. Rossi planted himself at the end of the cabin and pretended to read a book while Garcia curled herself on the couch by the entrance. Hotch was sitting next to Spencer with a puzzled expression on his face.

"What she would do?" Hotch asked finally.

"During the case or now?" Spencer asked quietly.

"Either. Both," Hotch sighed.

"I see no use in what-ifing. But if she was with us most probably she would go over autopsy reports and maybe later talk with the families of the victims," Spencer sighed. "She would aid JJ or help me at the farm."

"And here, now?" Hotch asked pensively.

"2:30 AM Seattle," Spencer sighed. "That makes 5:30 AM in DC. No time like present," he added and he opened the laptop that was laying on the table.

In spite of his anti-technological quirk he knew how to set up a video connection between two computers and as far as he knew Cameron she was up for last half of an hour already, most probably having her morning coffee by the laptop while checking emails and getting through news.

"Hello," he said with small smile when she showed on the screen.

"Hello," she said gently.

"You've heard of what happened in Sullivan Lakes?" he asked quietly.

She gave him small nod as she pulled a stray lock behind her ear.

"Can you… I don't know…" Spencer sighed. "Be yourself I guess… I don't know how to phrase it."

"I think I can," Cameron said quietly and after clearing her throat she started reciting 'Glory of a Flower' by Wordsworth.

She had good voice for recitation, soft, gentle and calming yet at some part oozing with inner strength and warmth that poured into the words she spoke.

Then she started reciting Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, uniquely mimicking characters, giving into the story and capturing the audience. Ashley and JJ were still curled to each other's side but they were listening to the story transfixed. Rossi gave up pretending to read and sat himself on the cupboard while Garcia turned around on the seat to watch the screen and while Spencer couldn't see Morgan at some point of the beginning he heard the blaring music coming from Morgan's headphones stop playing. Hotch by Spencer's side relaxed in his seat but was listening intently to the story.

When Cameron finished JJ and Ashley were sleeping, so was Garcia, from behind his back Spencer heard Morgan snoring softly. Hotch and Rossi were still awake and they shared a small smile.

"Last exams?" Rossi asked quietly.

"Practical marksmanship," Cameron confirmed.

"Prepared?" Hotch asked curiously.

"I'm quite convinced that I won't shot myself in the foot, sir," Cameron nodded. "McKay was quite crestfallen when it happened though if I was him I would be more concerned about the bullet in my foot and blood-loss than the opinion of the worst shooter in the history of the academy. I told him that at least he shot himself in only one foot unlike unlucky Luke Soriani who shot himself in both."

"You heard that story?" Hotch asked pensively. "I thought that it was buried deeply in the closet."

"She is the daughter of Jack Cameron, Aaron," Rossi said with small smile. "It was Jack who brought Soriani to ambulatory. No one could do worse than Soriani."

"I practically grew up in field office in Chicago," Cameron said. "I've heard worse stories. Elijah Robertson who was about two years earlier in the academy than my dad once took me to the shooting range in Chicago and regaled me with a story of unfortunate Quentin Smith who was so overconfident with his shooting abilities that somehow, they still don't know how he had done it he managed to blow up his left hand… Robertson had a voice for gore stories… he was a great man, good agent and very good friend. They miss him terribly."

"Jack was Chief of Organized Crime Unit and you grew up at the office?" Rossi asked.

"Well Organized Crime has a running joke, had at least when I lived in Chicago and when I came around to Chicago last year for my high school friends wedding I visited the office and it turned out that they still tell it around, particularly enjoying torturing every new Chief of the Unit with the story about a little girl who was left in a basket on the steps of FBI. Last year I was introduced to Evan Jefferson, who was made Chief of the Unit about three weeks earlier as that precious bundle of joy he heard about," Cameron said.

"Did he survive the meeting?" Spencer asked curiously.

"I asked him if Chicago seemed more interesting than Houston and how his wife was settling in new neighborhood," Cameron shrugged. "Oh and I told him that it's understandable that after a recent relocation everything at home is messy and that the unit should be gentler about him not knowing that braces are bad for him because his pink socks with Barbie emblems are showing and that his prepubescent daughter would surely understand why her daddy had taken her socks."

"What he had done to you?" Spencer snickered softly.

"Let's think about it…" Cameron hummed. "Upon hearing my surname he called me that attention-seeking, messy little snot who interrupted a very dangerous work and said that I was a daughter of an incompetent jerk who couldn't even drive properly and got himself killed by accident. After my comment about his socks I got proposed by ninety percent of the male population of the unit, including those already married and gay."

"How many agents of that unit knew you when you lived in Chicago?" Rossi smirked.

"By now… I think that forty percents would be accurate number. Organized Crimes in Chicago was always a pretty strong knit and I wasn't the only snot running around the office, though from what I heard later I was the calmest one. The old crowd I know by names, I know the names of their children, grandchildren, pets… I still get occasional postcard. Some friends of mine from high school had been in the academy few years above me, quite strong representation headed back to Chicago and three of them had ended in Organized Crimes."

"I take that Jefferson isn't very popular Unit Chief," Hotch said lightly.

"He is competent Unit Chief that doesn't change the fact that pretty strong representation of the agents in the unit are barely restraining utmost desire to lock him up in supply closet in the old archive and to throw away the key, then have it opened next year seemingly by accident just to say 'oops, so that's where our unit chief had went'," Cameron said pensively.

"Well Chicago won't be taking you," Spencer smiled.

"I would be surprised if they asked," Cameron said simply. "As it is I'm sure that they didn't. In Chicago everybody knows everybody and official evaluation of possible disposal excluded me from White Collar Crime and Organized Crime right away. The most dominant suggestion was Crimes Against Children and as it is Sheila Watson who heads the unit in Chicago was an old friend of my father and she knows that after my father died and my mother had moved away there is nothing for me in Chicago. Knowing Sheila she did ask around Chicago's field office to not ask the academy about assigning me to Chicago."

"Most people would ask," Hotch pointed out.

"I'm not most people," Cameron said simply. "I'm adjustable and while I'd like to visit Chicago every once in a while I don't feel like moving there. As for now I'm only praying that the weekend would be very snowy in Chicago. In fact I'm rooting for a full blown blizzard otherwise I don't know how I would manage to survive graduation."

"Chicago's family threatened to come to town?" Rossi smiled.

"They did when they heard that I got into the academy," Cameron groaned. "I had to recite the code of honor at them and threaten them with disappearing into tiny air if they would continue embarrassing me."

"Worked?" Spencer asked.

Cameron shook her head before she said, "You might be experienced FBI agents but I'm a board certified psychiatrist and I happen to still be employed by Georgetown University Hospital and I have very good friends there, did."

"Initial diagnosis?" Spencer asked curiously.

"An attack of mass hysteria, recommended treatment two pills of Haldol per person and two days worth observation in locked ward for safety measures," Cameron quipped.

From the corner of his eye Spencer saw Hotch smirking a little.

"You can hold your ground admirably," Hotch said.

"When I'm pushed into it, yeah," Cameron nodded. "I've got to go long way to Quantico and I would hate to get there late."

"Front sight, trigger press, follow through," Spencer quipped.

"I had this riled into my head when I was nine," Cameron nodded. "Happened when my dad's colleagues decided that due to dangerous nature of his job I need to be taught how to defend myself though the scenario they posed was so unrealistic that it hurt to listen to it. But in their defense they just recently lost two very dedicated young agents and they felt deep unyielding need to baby someone, happened to be me because they knew that I was reasonable enough to pick a gun only when I absolutely had to defend myself against an armed man."

"And the result was?" Spencer asked curiously.

"Well," Cameron sighed as she lowered her voice. "Initial purpose of shooting an armed opponent who wants to kill you is to prevent him or her from doing so… Her aim might be slightly out of SWAT standards but intentionally it's accurate if the attacker happened to be a man… No man would be left standing after a shot in there."

"Groin," Rossi coughed.

"In my defense I was nine and Glock 17 was pretty heavy for me and I aimed as high as I could without shooting the ceiling, I could barely stick my head over the counter at the shooting range. In last decade I grew up a bit and I aim higher," Cameron said simply.

"Test results?" Hotch asked.

"Passing ones in general though varying between eighty and ninety," Cameron answered.

"Think that it wants to kill you and you will pass," Spencer said simply.

"Murderous sheet of paper, nice," Cameron quipped. "I will try to remember that. Really got to go. Have a safe flight gentlemen."

The screen turned black.

"So?" Spencer said slowly.

"So… what?" Hotch asked.

"Is it unofficially official?" Spencer clarified.

"As of Monday, 30th January 2012, SA Kate Jane Cameron MD is posted as a member of Behavioral Analysis Unit, Team Alpha, Quantico, VA. Probationary agent: SSA Dr Spencer Reid," Hotch recited formally before he quirked his left eyebrow and asked curiously, "Would you take my word for that or do I have to show you official posting slip signed by both me and Jericho?"

"You have it here?" Spencer asked faking curiosity even if he knew that Hotch didn't have it with him.

"He is yanking your leash, Aaron," Rossi smirked. "Poker gentlemen?"

* * *

><p>Spencer hadn't been on graduation ceremony since attending Ashley's graduation and before that his own. Things however hardly changed, not that he expected them to change. Everything was the same.<p>

Cameron herself graduated with academic honors, she did reasonably well physical tests but kicking the doors out of the hinges hadn't been his forte either.

At first he expected to have only Hotch as Unit Chief for the company but evident curiosity and some weird kind of gratitude for Friday story had pulled to the auditorium not only him and Hotch with Jack but also Rossi, Morgan, JJ with Will and Henry, Ashley, Garcia and Kevin.

Jack and Henry to everyone's surprise had spend the ceremony watching it completely transfixed and Spencer couldn't help but picture two boys standing arm in arm on the podium about to graduate themselves, that caused him to smirk, which prompted a raised eyebrow from Hotch and a kick in the shin from JJ

"Don't even think about it," they both hissed at Spencer.

"I think that it's already too late," the blond-haired boy that ended sitting next to Hotch mumbled.

"How so?" Hotch asked quietly.

"Importance of role models generally attributed to parents or parental figures. The stronger the impact of the individual on child's life the more likely it will be that the child will… so to speak follow the tradition. I know I will," the boy said. "No matter how many death threats my mum would implore to keep me away from following her footsteps."

Spencer secured his hold on Henry who was sitting in his lap to sliding the boy to his knees so he could lean over and take a closer look at the boy. For a less trained eyes than his certain features would be hard to miss and he knew what he was looking for when he looked at the boy.

Shoulder-length, messy, light blonde hair. Slightly quirked at the ends thin eyebrows, straight, slightly thin and perky at the tip nose, thin lips and strikingly blue eyes. He had seen the photograph of the boy before and he couldn't help but say.

"You look just like your mum," he said it with small grin.

"Thank you," the boy grinned at him.

"Reid…" Hotch hissed.

"Shush," Spencer hissed back. "Later, Hotch."

He couldn't help but snicker inwardly at the look on Hotch's face or the way Hotch was pretending to NOT profile his companion and Spencer sincerely wished Hotch very good luck at doing so if half of the things he knew about the boy were true Hotch was in for big surprise.

The ceremony ended few minutes afterwards, after the speech of the class's speak-person.

"I hadn't hear your name, kid," Hotch said casually.

"Because I didn't say it perhaps, sir?" the boy said innocently. "It's quite a boring name, reasonably popular amongst the country population even after taking into consideration conjoined issue though personally I could live without the second part of it."

"What's your name?" Hotch clarified.

"Bright-headed dispenser with a crooked nose from the black river," the boy said quickly.

Spencer snickered at the stupefied look on Hotch's face which made Hotch look from the boy to Spencer.

"Spence?" JJ leaned to him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Spencer coughed. "Hotch just had been reduced into speechless state by a twelve years and eleven months old."

"Twelve years, eleven months, fifteen hours and fourteen minutes old to be more precise, Doctor Reid," the boy clarified with an innocent smile.

Boy, he liked the kid already.

Hotch stared at Spencer pointedly, so did JJ and from the prickling on the back of his neck he could feel that so did the others.

"Your family likes names of Gaelic origin, don't they?" Spencer asked simply.

"Would you believe me if I said that my father considered calling me Milwaukee?" the boy asked simply. "Good thing that he didn't stand a chance and that women in my family are strong-headed and persuasive."

"I agree, persuasion should be their second name, your mum's certainly," Spencer chuckled.

"Instead it's plain God is gracious which following Greek version of pure though different source translates the word as torture and happening to stand before lioness makes in overall a very interesting character study, don't you think?" the boy grinned.

"Reid," Hotch said in his Unit Chief voice.

"Hotch, this is Killian Spencer Cameron-Douglas, Cameron's nephew," Spencer said calmly. "Killian, this is your mum's new boss, keep it low," he eyed the boy.

"Okay," the boy nodded quickly and turned to Hotch with innocent smile, "I'm sorry for before, sir. I just can't resist being quirky."

"You two meet before?" Hotch looked from Spencer to Killian and back again.

"No," they both said in unison. "That would be the first meeting but I heard about him, a word here, a word there," Spencer added.

"Same there," Killian nodded.

"I hope that you are behaving, you bright-eyed bundle of innocence," Cameron said stiffly as she approached them and messed Killian's hair.

"The only thing he managed to do was to introduce himself to Hotch in a quirky way," Spencer chuckled.

"Tell Cleo that if I ever read something similar in a report I would be holding her responsible," Cameron said pointedly as she looked down at Killian who smiled at her innocently. "I mean it, Lian."

"Okay, though you have to admit that it's funny way to introduce oneself," Killian said simply.

"Only when you have built-in translator instead of brain," Cameron rolled her eyes.

"Built-in gigantic hard-drive with translator going on light's speed," Killian corrected her innocently.

"Whatever you say, my precious prodigious progeny," Cameron quipped.

"What happened to precious prodigious progeny with probable PhD in psychology, pouty-lip and puppy-eyes?" Killian smiled.

"Well he went to Cal-Tech and is trying to get PhD in mathematics during his first year," Cameron shrugged. "In spite of what I said about studying process."

"It's not my fault that I can read thrice as fast as the minority of fast-reading students there and that I do remember what I read," Killian shrugged. "I was born this way."

"So were psychopaths, are you one?" Cameron quipped.

"Nope, I'm a provable child prodigy with intelligence quotient of 177, an eidetic memory and ability to read with a speed of 15 000 words per minute," Killian said simply.

"I beat you by ten points and five thousand words," Spencer quipped.

"And I have yet to hit puberty. Can we discuss it in few years?" Killian quipped back.

"He is remarkably well-adjusted," Spencer turned to Cameron.

"Yeah, why do you think she dyes her hair dark-brown?" Killian asked. "Apparently single-handedly bringing up a child prodigy with diagnosed low-grade Asperger Syndrome from the age of eleven onwards turns ones hair grey before reaching the age of majority. I told her repeatedly to call Vatican and apply for saint…" Cameron's hand was placed on Killian's mouth.

"That would be Asperger showing itself," she said simply and she removed her hand from Killian's mouth.

"…hood," Killian finished. "See, I'm getting better."

"God help me," Cameron groaned. "How about you tell me the hundred number in Fibonacci sequence my bright-eyed bundle of joy?"

".261.915.075," Killian said quickly on one breath. "Your Jedi-mind tricks don't work on me, sorry, Mum," he added sheepishly.

"You memorized the tablet didn't you?" Cameron asked skeptically.

"Was funnier than applying the equation," Killian said simply.

"William Shakespeare works in chronological order," Cameron said.

"If you are looking for something that shuts me up for longer than a minute roman poetry always worked," Killian smirked.

"Try to recall Virgil's Bucolic," Cameron sighed.

"Mum…" Killian groaned.

"Now inwardly recite them in backwards order starting from the Bucolic with prime numbers," Cameron said quickly, then after a moment she added, "In Latin."

"I never heard of that one," Spencer smirked. "Jedi-mind tricks. That's child prodigy abuse."

"Seriously?" Cameron raised her left eyebrow. "If I asked him to translate them in that order into Bacon's cipher and then have it recited backwards that would be child prodigy abuse."

"Not really, just an interesting challenge," Killian quipped. "I like challenges."

"All of them except being silent for five minutes," Cameron rolled her eyes.

"You know what my therapist says, I have to make up for the first five years of silence," Killian shrugged.

"I hate you," Cameron sighed.

"No, you don't," Killian smiled. "As I said your Jedi mind-tricks don't work on me. Reverse psychology doesn't either. But I can be silent for five minutes."

"You will turn blue first," Cameron rolled her eyes and Killian glared at her as he took a deep breath and shut his mouth.

"Do you know how glass is made?" Jack asked curiously.

"Sure I do," Killian quipped. "But there are different kinds of glass so you have to pick one."

"Why you can see through windows but not through mirrors and Uncle Spencer said that they are both made from glass?" Jack asked.

"Well Uncle Spencer was right…" Killian started and before the rest of them realized what happened Killian wandered to the end of the auditorium which was a wall filled with mirrors with Jack holding on his hand and after a moment of hesitation with Henry trotting behind them until he caught up with other two and grabbed Killian's other hand.

"I feel useless," Spencer muttered. "Old and replaced by a prepubescent child prodigy who hadn't been around them longer than half of hour, no less."

"Well you aren't," Cameron said sympathetically. "Recent studies showed that intellectual growth of prepubescent children is far more faster than in other children if the parents or guardians alternate the intellectual stimulation so the child doesn't associate one figure with certain subject. For example dad with math and scientific subjects and mother with more humanistic areas. Additionally you aren't being replaced, you are familiar and because you are familiar the boys think that they know you well, you are just less exciting and because you are an adult and a tall one on that you are temporarily losing the battle. I give them less than fifteen minutes to run back to you for confirmation."

"Will Killian…" JJ started nervously.

"He spend better part of his middle childhood entertaining patients in pediatric ward when he grew bored with reading," Cameron said simply. "At times he was the only person who could persuade few of the long term patients to eat. They will be fine."

"How do you call an effect opposite to Reid's effect?" Morgan snickered.

"Competition," Spencer snorted in mock petulance which made all of them laugh.

The crowd started getting thinner and the rest of them mingled, eating and talking, with JJ, Will and Hotch eying the corner in which the three boys camped themselves every two minutes.

It was nearing time to leave or at the very least move the party to a different place when excited Jack run to them, nearly knocked Spencer over as he breathed out, "Uncle Spencer, Uncle Spencer, I learned a magic trick."

"Really?" Spencer asked faking surprise. "Oh show me."

Jack grinned and subjected Spencer to the trick with disappearing nickel and then proceed to show it to everyone separately and he was getting better by each time.

"Cal-Tech you said?" Hotch turned to Cameron.

"He is Cameron," Cameron said simply. "It was non-negotiable choice," she sighed. "And while I definitely suffer from separation anxiety on the other hand I'm deliriously happy that he adjusted splendidly into that part of his life, made new friends and manages to control himself for ninety percent of the time and when he doesn't his friends keep him within boundaries of reason. Though I would be thrilled if he reduced the level of surprises, like showing up on my graduation without prior warning or flying by himself from California."

"He is proper age for flying on his own," Hotch said.

"It's not flight itself that worries me," Cameron rolled her eyes. "Just circumstances surrounding it. Like knowing that while thank you very much I can put him through Cal-Tech without dipping into my retirement fund and have his studies and life in California on reasonable and comfortable level I also happen to know that last minute ticket from Los Angeles to Washington is way beyond his pocket money, especially while taking into consideration that by the time he got himself to the airport he was already nearing the bottom of the money stash."

"I might be from Vegas but I honed my poker skills at Cal-Tech. If Vegas is sin city then you hadn't seen Cal-Tech students after stipendiary is handed out," Spencer interjected. "In fact from my first big win I bought my car…"

"… and you fixed it from the second one," Cameron added grimly. "I heard that story along with cranky comments that you are so in need of a weekend in Atlantic City to have it fixed again."

"I need to go to Atlantic City because you refuse to play," Spencer pointed out.

"One day, maybe," Cameron shrugged. "Not today, today I need to ready myself for tomorrow's ethics lecture and trust me it's going to be a long one."

"He is pretty good with Jack and Henry," Hotch interjected. "Perhaps he is baby-sitting."

"I wouldn't be deluding myself to count on that," Cameron shook her head. "He studies applied mathematics and physics. In between he is trying to cram cryptology course and deep studies into graphology which if my memory serves me right is your specialty," she turned to Spencer. "If you value your life and peace of mind I strongly suggest to not say a word about graphology. Back to the point, considering his wide range of interests and his short attention span when it comes to picking them up I can with all certainty attest that he isn't baby-sitting."

"BAU has several invitations lectures coming in California and Nevada," Hotch said.

"Whope," Spencer snorted. "I love invitation lectures. No matter how many times I tell them to not send me to them I always end as an unwilling participant."

"Considering the age difference, ethnicity and different backgrounds your sense of humor is too sophisticated for general audience," Cameron said with small smile. "You just need to dumber your jokes when you tell them."

"I'm not much of a public speaker," Spencer rolled his eyes.

"You are public speaker," Cameron objected. "It's public who isn't accustomed to a speaker like you. That's something what my mentor used to tell me repeatedly every time Georgetown kept sending me to high schools in the area, that along with the part that negotiating with paranoid schizophrenic on a psychotic break and with hospitals employees and patients as hostages is in fact public speaking and if I can do that, then most certainly I can face the room filled with teenagers."

"College students are generally older," Hotch interjected.

"And they don't profile as psychopaths for the most of the time," Cameron said grimly.

"They do," Killian who suddenly appeared by their side muttered. "Which is why you would do just fine on invitation lecture. You were trained to handle madness and normality is not something you would find on a college campus."

"Are you trying to put yourself through abnormal psychology too?" Cameron asked skeptically. "Because I feel obliged to remind you that while you are a genius you are also twelve and that the day has only twenty-four hours."

"I don't need a degree in psychology to know psychology, Mum," Killian said simply. "I have an eidetic memory and your psychology books were interesting read."

"Did you ever meet a scientific field which you didn't like?" Cameron rolled her eyes.

"I have no interest in agriculture," Killian shrugged. "It's not really scientific field if you look at it from the other angles. It's a combination of biology, chemistry, mathematics, psychology and sociology. I'm well-educated in two and I have keen interest in remaining three which doesn't mean that I'm going to apply for agriculture. Knowing mathematics before other studies is half of the success."

"Because math is a queen of science?" Jack asked curiously.

"Pretty much so," Killian confirmed.

"But it's boring," Jack rolled his eyes. "Being an astronaut is way cooler."

"But you cannot be an astronaut without studying physics and physics is all about math," Killian summed up.

"Well a FBI agent doesn't have to know math," Jack stated. "Dad doesn't have to use math. Right daddy?"

Hotch looked like a deer caught in the headlights of the coming car on that comment.

"Well I don't know your dad really well Jack," Killian had no problem with answering that question. "But there are few things about him which I know just by knowing that he is my mum's boss starting from that simple fact that he is the boss. Bosses are responsible for jobs of other people and part of being responsible for that is making sure that people are paid for what they are doing. So far with me, Jack?"

Jack nodded eagerly.

"People are paid with money and spending money is in general applying math in every day life. So the boss needs to know how much money he has to pay to his workers for them to have money for food and other things. Which means that because your dad is a boss he knows and uses math and because you want to be like your dad you need to learn math Jack."

* * *

><p><strong>Hone Your Rookie: Day 1<strong>

They had it planned down to every single dot over each _i_. He and Hotch, they had it planned carefully and meticulously because when it comes to planning SSA Aaron Hotchner and SSA Dr Spencer Reid both happened to be control freaks.

Cameron's first and foremost responsibility upon entering BAU was sitting herself by her new desk (Emily's desk, Elle's desk, Eileen's desk… Jesus he didn't know why he told Hotch that he wanted to have Cameron close by, by that desk from all in the bull-pen) and to read through the stash of the most vital cases.

Before Emily the desk belonged to Elle and before Elle there were two he remembered clearly, Eileen Turner, an experienced and warm agent, quite motherly (shot to the back of her head on a case shortly after they lost Hudson and Watson, just three months into duty). And before Eileen was Evita (car crash, she stood no chance).

Perhaps that wooden piece of … furniture was jinxed. It drew women to it, women with their names starting from E… Women who weren't there anymore for various reasons, two dead, two not here anymore… He wanted so much to break that freaky jinx.

Four desks separated through half-walls. Four desks that formed a cross. As he sat down and turned so he could face the door of Hotch's office he mused inwardly.

Wayne Wolfenstein, team Beta, an old honed agent… Leery lustful leech… had he always stared at the females they both happened to have by their sides? He probably did… If Spencer's memory served him correctly Wolfenstein did stared and quite ostensibly at Elle because it was then when his desk was moved to there. He certainly did stare at Emily.

Ashley? She had been stared at in the past but after few days Wolfenstein had stopped and came back to stare at Emily until there was no one to stare at.

Now Cameron. Buried up to her elbows in books and past cases which were referred in them. Wolfenstein definitely leered even if there is nothing to leer at. Cameron most certainly was properly dressed and though she wouldn't admit to it due to her height and lanky build she was as sensitive to changes in temperature just as much as he happened to be.

_Nothing to stare at, absolutely nothing to stare at. Just plant your nose in your case file and don't try to profile a fellow agents as a sexual offender… Argh… Coffee break._

He took his coffee to the briefing room mostly because team Beta never used it. Despite the memo that the briefing room was for every team to use and the fact that there were four profiling teams in BAU and a group of six people who worked singlehandedly it was only team Alpha used briefing room for its purpose, it was their territory, somehow they marked it up and down despite the lack of personalization in the room.

"Wolfenstein?" he heard Hotch's voice behind his back, followed by small, barely audible slurp of most probably coffee.

"What makes you think so?" he asked with a shrug.

"Before you promptly left your desk you devoted ten minutes to alternatively glaring daggers at him everytime he turned between Seaver and Cameron or in deep thought… Which considering that it's you means really heavy thinking going on… that and distinctive possibility of something horribly embarrassing happening to Wolfenstein in near future," Hotch said calmly.

"Am I being paranoid by starting to think that he is a sexual offender?" Spencer snorted. "Most probably and I do remember the moratorium about inter-team profiling. For the record I'm not on the same team with Wolfenstein and there is something that ticks me off about him but I cannot put my finger on it."

"Penicelamine?" Hotch offered cautiously.

"Cooper levels are so low that I had to eat a chocolate candy… Tasted weird but then again I hadn't have one in months," he shrugged.

"You just picked on it?" Hotch asked skeptically. "Today?"

"I wish I did," Spencer grimaced into his coffee. "Kate, Emily, Elle, Eileen, Evita… All brunettes. Twenty to forty-five. On the slim-side, five feet eight to six feet one."

"In position of authority," Hotch mussed. "Even Cameron, young but in FBI… I'm going to need you and Cameron in the evening… between eight and nine at my place, come separately and not a single word to anyone."

"Jack's new found fascination with math…" Spencer started.

"Won't be an issue," Hotch shook his head. "Jessica has him this week… We decided that it would be better for him… His cousins got chickenpox, it's better for Jack to get it as a child…"

"Understandable," Spencer nodded. "But if they got chickenpox already…"

"Zack did, Molly and Rory just started sniffing," Hotch clarified. "Killian Cameron is a horrible influence. Coolest infectious disease ever even if all this scratching is maddening. Honestly dad if I get chickenpox now I will be immune for life, like a Superman."

"Well someone told me that there are times when logic defies gravity…" Spencer motioned with his head at Cameron. "I find him amusing and incredibly well-adjusted in spite of everything I know about the Camerons. I think it's transference… Cameron took great care of him and with her as a role model the kid is a natural nurturer even at this age, very patient and understanding. In his mind he is proper age to feel responsible for other kids in the similar way like Cameron was always did for him and since he is an only child…"

"That's why he connects with younger children so easily," Hotch finished.

"That or because younger children are less threatening than those of his age," Spencer muttered. "If he was a complete recluse I would be more worried."

* * *

><p>There was something deeply unnerving about the secrecy Hotch wanted to keep. Secrets tore families apart (as well as false accusations, his conscience nagged him) and he didn't want their family to fall apart.<p>

He knocked on the door to Hotch's apartment precisely at 08:07 PM, Kate wouldn't be here for another ten to twenty-five minutes. After the knock he waited about ten seconds before the door opened at Rossi lead him inside.

"I hadn't seen Aaron so disturbed since Foyet or budget cuts," Rossi muttered as he closed the door. "I tried to get something out of him but he firmly stated that he isn't going to repeat himself four times."

"He asked you to come with Ashley, didn't he?" Spencer asked pensively.

Rossi nodded slowly before he asked, "Cameron?"

"Ten to twenty-five minutes behind me," Spencer confirmed.

"Ashley will come closer to nine," Rossi said. "There is four."

"That's the most curious," Spencer muttered. "The mentor and the mentored. Two pairs."

"And one disturbed Unit Chief," Rossi summed up.

"Moratorium about inter-team profiling!" Hotch called out from the direction of the bedrooms.

"Monday evening, eight o'clock…" Spencer started. "How close we were to the mark?"

"Close," Hotch grumbled as he entered the sitting room. "It's not going to be pretty that I can tell you right away and all four of you would have to very strongly relay on your acting skills," he looked at Spencer pointedly, "Especially you, Reid."

"Shall I cover in fear?" Spencer asked skeptically.

"You shall stop blinking and keep your spine straight," Hotch sighed. "Change your revolver to Glock or Sig Sauer."

"I'm going in as an alpha male?" Spencer asked pensively. "I understand that our acting skills are important but Hotch, I'm a blinker."

"I know but you being alpha male is essential for the operation to succeed," Hotch said. "The interview the four of you are going to conduct is very important in capturing that sneaky, lying, son of a… My memory might not be eidetic Reid but I do distinctively remember you telling me that you do your best work under intense terror."

Spencer straightened his back and glared at Hotch. If he was supposed to play an alpha male he should better start honing his act.

"One more thing before Cameron and Seaver will arrive, Reid," Hotch said firmly. "When you get to the field office you are the agent leading the investigation which means that you are going to drive…"

"Finally," Rossi snorted.

"Aren't you an alpha male?" Spencer asked skeptically as he turned to Rossi.

"I am but I intensively dislike driving those gigantic cows the bureau keeps, I prefer faster, male cars rather than family SUVs," Rossi said dryly.

"I prefer classics," Spencer muttered. "I find them meditating. Unlike some Porsches."

"I saw you driving, my grandmother drove faster," Rossi coughed.

"Do you know standards to qualify as CIA consultant?" Spencer asked pointedly.

"One of the tests is in aggressive driving," Rossi muttered. "You didn't consult for CIA, did you?"

"Just because I can do something, it doesn't mean that I have to… Besides, I'm a blinker, Hotch and Morgan beat me to the steering-wheel ninety-nine times out of hundred," Spencer shrugged. "Doing the same to you is simply a part of establishing my position of a blinker within the team. With all those testosterone oozing from the three of you we need someone who doesn't poses the air of an incoming threat."

"That explains us," Hotch said in lighter voice. "What about the girls? Elle, Emily and JJ beat you to the steering-wheel too. I never saw you driving the same car with Ashley to gauge a reaction but I very much doubt that it would be different."

"Common courtesy," Spencer said simply. "There is much less female FBI agents than male, they work harder to establish their positions and driving is a part of stating the authority."

"Cameron will end up driving if they go out together," Rossi said pointedly.

"If we were to take a sedan most probably," Spencer said simply. "I believe that the direct quote is that 'I will drive a SUV only if I would have a gun pressed to the back of my head or if Killian's life depended on it'. She is fine with being a passenger but getting her to drive a SUV will be hard."

"You will take care of it, won't you?" Hotch asked.

"Let's take it one thing at time," Spencer said pointedly. "You are onto something."

"How well you know each other?" Hotch asked.

"She is a psychiatrist and I have been her patient once," Spencer shrugged. "I guess that while there is a lot she doesn't know about me and I don't know about her she knows things that matter."

"If it was required of her would she easily pull off SA Spencer Reid vel _I just got employed by BAU_?" Hotch asked curiously.

Spencer smirked inwardly, so that was the avenue Hotch had chosen. Turn Spencer into himself while Cameron would play his twenty-one years old self. Probationary agent and the rookie. But for whom Hotch wanted to stage this psychodrama and why Hotch wanted Rossi and Ashley with them?

If the interview was even remotely connected to Spencer's paranoid suspicions and Hotch wanted to keep the investigation low where else Hotch would turn for possible information…

_Wolfenstein was very private person, member of Beta team but he didn't appear to be very close to the tight knit which Anderson's team was. But Wolfenstein had to be close to someone at some point._

_To whom an agent gets close to? With whom even though people move away they still keep contact if possible?_

_Rossi was here and so will be Ashley when she would arrive._

_Mentor and the rookie. Him and Cameron. Mentor and the rookie._

_Mentor and the rookie…_

_Wolfenstein was a rookie once, but who was his mentor? Who was the person he appeared to be the closest to?_ It had to be a pretty old memory, one from the time he just started working in BAU and observed all teams almost obsessively to hone his observations skills.

_There's got to be a memory…_

_But why Rossi and Ashley. One pair wouldn't be enough?_

_Rossi would be the antagonist and Ashley would be Rossi's backup. Rossi didn't have fans amongst the old members of BAU or BSU so if Rossi would play the antagonist then he really would have to be an antagonist…_

'_We never really got along… We competed by our approaches and effectiveness… I left because I couldn't stand…'_

Pieces of a puzzle were coming together…

"Mentor and the rookie," Spencer whispered as the realization dawned on him. "We are staging a psychodrama. You want us to interview Gideon. That's why you are putting me in charge and pressing me into alpha male mode."

"I want to unhinge him," Hotch admitted with a growing smirk to which Spencer found himself automatically answering with a smirk on his own. "The presence of you two would be enough to unsettle him. Cameron and Seaver are just an added bonus and they will keep him wondering… You have to manipulate him into giving up information about Wolfenstein, as much as possible. I have no doubt that at some point he will figure out that you are acting but you have to persuade him of Wolfenstein's evident guilt first."

"I wasn't paranoid, was I?" Spencer asked skeptically.

"You found a very strong lead I had been following carefully for the past few weeks," Hotch nodded. "There is no physical evidence all we have is a preliminary profile with more blanks than answers. The four of you will go undercover, seemingly to follow interviews for ViCAP in two prisons within the area."

"What we are looking at?" Rossi asked bluntly.

"Serial killer who leaves no evidence only a trail of bodies behind," Hotch said grimly. "Once the girls will arrive I will brief you…"

* * *

><p>The briefing was more grim than anything Spencer thought he saw in past few years. Wolfenstein was in FBI for thirteen years and if Hotch's calculations were right (and Spencer sincerely hoped that they weren't) Wolfenstein had been active for over ten years killing women in authority all over the country.<p>

Mysterious disappearances in towns where Wolfenstein was personally delivering a profile, always on occasions without the rest of the team present. Brunettes varying in age. Starved to death in unknown locations for months on end, remains that were discovered later, usually few days within Wolfenstein departing from the same location.

Almost eleven years, fifty-seven victims. All branded with distinctive tattoo that read E. Wolfenstein was for last three months bound to desk duty after recovering from being shot. If he had taken a victim in Indianapolis then most probably the victim had been dead for a very long time.

"The four of you will go to Joseph, Oregon for the interview. Morgan and I will go to Indianapolis to deliver a lecture about profiling missing people. Whole mission goes undercover. JJ will make sure that Wolfenstein will remain firmly planted at his desk," Hotch said.

"When we are leaving?" Spencer asked.

"You need to leave first for Oregon, you will go with your interviews, two standard questionings of revenge oriented murders," Hotch said. "The road to Joseph will be long so you will pick the SUV from Portland's field office and Reid, remember that while you are there, even at the office in Portland you are the agent in charge. During the drive to Joseph you can alternate but the most important is that you arrive to Joseph with you as the driver."

"Got it. Time please," Spencer nodded.

"You leave at midnight, will spend the night on the jet, land in Portland at seven in the morning, I left specific instructions for that. The jet comes back to pick me and Morgan by then the four of you should be on your way to Joseph," Hotch said.

"From Portland to Joseph there is 334 miles," Kate said pensively. "That's about six hours forty minutes drive."

"Six hours seventeen if we would go I-84," Spencer supplied.

"If you would like to test the wheels that would be suggested route," Kate interjected. "The part of I-84 behind Hermiston is under construction…"

"I'm not even asking how you know the state of an interstate which isn't even remotely close to DC," Rossi shook his head.

"I have a PhD from Geography," Kate said simply. "On the sociological values of interstates to the community and the nation."

"English?" Ashley asked weakly.

"On the subject of whatever or not is it worth to maintain interstates rather than making flies cheaper and taking better care of local roads," Kate explained. "Guess my answer, Ashley."

"You have a point, don't you?" Rossi asked.

She did, Spencer saw that since she said how many miles were from Portland to Joseph.

"It's a long road," Spencer said simply. "Depending when we would be done with the interviews, even if we will start at eight, which we won't…"

"You are SAC, Reid. The choice is yours though I would prefer to have you interviewing rested and sharp-minded," Hotch said quickly. "Plus Gideon was never much of a morning person, rather nightly owl."

"So wheels up in two hours," Spencer sighed. "See you two on the plane. As for you we need to hone your I'm a genius under the age of qualification act, Kate."

* * *

><p><strong>Next:<strong> _Hone Your Rookie: Day 2; Road to Joseph where Reid delivers his Oscar's worth performance of 'I'm an Alpha Male, Fear My Wrath' and a confrontation with Gideon and the memory of him (or a few of them)._


	3. Chapter 3: Playing the Player

DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done.

It's my first fic and obviously English is not my first language as You will probably quickly spot it. However I hope that I'd given the characters the justice they deserve.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

><p><em><strong>The man who thinks he can live without others is mistaken; the one who thinks others can't live without him is even more deluded.<strong>_

_**Hasidic proverb**_

**Hone Your Rookie Day: 2 **

**SSA Spencer Reid**

"Why psychodrama?" Ashley asked when they sat down at the table with four seats around it on the jet, briefing table as they called it. "I understand that Gideon was a profiler once and that we need information about Wolfenstein from him and that depending from his psychological state we might get something or nothing at all. But I don't understand why psychodrama is so important."

Rossi at Ashley's right got himself more comfortable in his place and looked pointedly at Spencer who was sitting opposite to him with Kate at his right.

"It's hard to answer it in one sentence," Spencer sighed and he rubbed his chin. "Gideon's departure was… disturbing at best. Burning out in BAU and suffering from depression is quite common though not very loudly talked about. With everything we see day after day after day after day so called _'loosing it'_ is an occupational hazard."

"And Gideon lost it," Ashley said slowly.

"Spectacularly I should add," Spencer muttered. "Not that I blame him but to sum it up he had ran away like a coward with his tail between his legs at the worst possible time for the team… It cost us a lot."

"His trainee most especial," Rossi said quietly.

"Water under the bridge," Spencer said as he shot Rossi a glare. "And I know that I used to relay on Gideon like on a crutch way too much, thanks for showing me that I could walk on my own. Though if either of you happens to barely recover from getting shot in the leg don't go with him," he motioned with his chin at Rossi, "anywhere near any ditches and if you do, at least make sure that he has sporty shoes on."

Rossi's lips quirked on that comment.

"You lived," he said.

"I did. Did you like your coffee?" Spencer quipped.

"It was good, a bit salty on the side but then again I did expect some retaliation from you," Rossi smirked. "You didn't buy the shoes."

"Italian leather disagrees with me," Spencer shot back. "Presses a bit too much to the side. It's for anal retentive neat-freaks if you ask me."

"Only socially challenged quirks say that," Rossi quipped.

"Can we skip this lesson in intellectually insulting your opponent and come back to the subject at hand?" Kate asked curiously. "Gideon and his state of mind when he left, perhaps?"

"Do you use Maybeline cosmetics, Cameron?" Rossi asked simply.

"No, I was born with it and I had it honed by Unit Chief father, high school, medschool and four years of working at GUH's psychiatric ward where underage geniuses were in extreme minority," Kate shrugged.

"Isn't sarcasm a learned skill?" Ashley asked pensively.

"It is, but apparently it tastes better when one was born with magic ingredient," Kate said simply. "I've been told that I'm a model Capricorn and as much as I hate to admit it, there are few characteristics that I happen to agree with when it comes to Capricorns"

"You believe in folktale?" Rossi asked.

"I believe in psychological characteristics of people born on certain days of the year. Despite the folktale they happen to be quite accurate at times, at least in small aspects," Kate smirked.

Spencer looked from her to Rossi and did quick math in his head before he snickered, "I have a feeling that you two will get along just fine. After all a pot knows the kettle."

"Libra," Kate and Rossi muttered together. "Drop it."

"Ouch," Spencer smirked. "That hurt."

"Back to Gideon," Ashley sighed.

"Gideon was a typical case of what we refer in BAU, unofficially of course, as '_came back to duty too early'_," Spencer sighed. "He was recovering from huge personal loss which was Sarah's death. We all knew that it hit him very hard. But that's the worst thing about being a profiler, you know how to pass psych evaluation even if deep down you know that you shouldn't. That was Gideon by the time he disappeared."

"He started having flashbacks during the case," Kate said pensively.

"On a case where we made huge mistakes, all of us. Except Gideon felt the most responsible of us all. So… he packed his cabin, his photographs and left," Spencer sighed. "He left a letter though… He explained it all… As I said coward's way out."

"It's understandable if…" Ashley started.

Spencer shook his head, he had remotely good idea where she was heading but that wasn't the issue with Gideon, it was the other way.

"He was going to leave one way or another, Ashley," Spencer grimaced. "He would have left, it was only a matter of time. The same happened to Elle," he sighed. "You cannot help someone who doesn't want to be helped and if there is one thing which I know for sure about the team is that we are the family, Ashley. We have each other backs and we don't let each other forget that. There are times when it's annoying and there are times when you beg for it but at the end of the day the most of all you are grateful for the others just being there."

"Except Gideon was way too stubborn to accept help," Rossi interjected. "That's why he left the BAU and the mess which his departure had caused."

"So we are tearing into the life of a middle-aged man who suffered from a major loss, who is a profiler himself which means that he can deceive us if he decides too. There is huge chance that our appearance won't be greatly welcomed," Ashley summed up.

"Unless we intrigue him which is way we are going with psychodrama," Kate said pensively. "He needs to know that the team hadn't been the same since he left, that there happened things which altered the team and in his mind it might have alter the people he once knew and not for the better."

"Wonderful," Spencer nodded and pointed at her, "You, shoulders hunched, stick to playing with the bag, don't talk much at the beginning but if you start keep to the babble. Tug at the hems of the sweater and try to appear as uncomfortable as possible without bolting to the car. Voice low and unsure or driven and slightly pitched." He paused then added after a moment, "There is one little thing. From time to time try to push invisible glasses to the bridge of your nose, make it look like you just got your contacts recently."

"Just be yourself but remember who is SAC at the moment," Rossi said simply. "One more thing I just remembered for you to be believable SAC and SSA Alpha Male. Refer and talk to me as Dave and don't overdo it."

"As for Ashley…" Spencer muttered and tapped his lips. "At the beginning put yourself in defensive position, make it plain that you wouldn't bolt though. Arms closed, skeptical pose, roll your eyes when you will hear Kate babble at what you consider too much but don't say anything about it."

"Got it," Ashley nodded.

"Make it evident who is mentoring you but don't overdo it either. When you make a point during the interview wait few seconds before looking up to Dave. Kate, you are doing exact opposite, point-look, point-look. The difference is that you," Spencer motioned with his chin at Ashley, "are keeping your points straight and short. Kate, you babble."

"On this case you forget the doctor part before Reid's name," Rossi said.

"Contrary to you," Spencer looked at Kate. "We will underline the doctor part starting from introductions and forward. No physical contact, just wave your hand and make sure that you have all of us between yourself and Gideon until we get inside," Kate nodded quickly when he paused to take a breath. "When inside avoid sitting, stick to circling behind my back nervously. Sit down only when directly asked and if you can drop a file on the floor."

"Understood," Kate nodded. "Now the other two interviews…"

* * *

><p>Noon had found them at Pizza Hut because they were in mood for having one, though Rossi was quite adamant in his opinion that a true pizza was never found out of the boarders of Italy but their lunch satisfied their hunger and that was it.<p>

Then upon leaving Rossi threw SUVs keys at him and the rocky road had started.

Being the passenger in the SUV was easy part and as a passenger he adapted to various drivers as they came. With Morgan behind the wheel the only real control in the car he had was AC and the map. Hotch on the other hand depending for how long he was driving and driving was an activity which gave Hotch some little needed relief, had allowed him control over the radio as long as Spencer stuck to remotely common for both of them music.

Rossi was the one he felt the most comfortable while driving with (aside of the first disastrous road trip, which wasn't talked about after the first time) for various reasons.

Spencer also knew what it mean to drive with Kate but for various reasons unless it was the whole team he had never found himself with Ashley in the car alone.

Driving with company was always about establishing the control. Driving with company for few hours on end was… well…

"Hem hem, butterflies are flying faster," Dave muttered from behind his back.

"SAC," Spencer quipped without tearing his eyes from the road.

"Whatever you say, Spencer," Dave hummed.

"How about Chinese for dinner?" Spencer asked calmly.

"Not good idea, I've seen you with chopsticks," Dave quipped.

"I worked once on a case where an unsub had killed two people with chopsticks and I mean really butchered them and not in that Hollywood assumed version," Spencer smirked to himself.

"Have you ever watched Need for Speed?" Dave quipped.

"He is already thick-skinned," Kate observed. "And despite the supposed laidback attitude it's evident who is the alpha male in the car."

"I remember reading something about it," Ashley quipped. "The loudest back-seat driver is always an alpha male."

"What does it make you?" Dave quipped.

"Depends," Ashley shrugged. "Kate what are you?"

"Alpha female if required," Kate said pensively. "Passive-aggressive for the most part."

"Sounds like classic mate of an alpha male," Spencer interjected.

"I'm a daughter of alpha male," Kate said simply. "All key male figures in my life and people I came to relay on were alpha males. You are the first blinker in charge. And because I'm a daughter of alpha male I know the behavior and I know how to act. I just chose not to. Ashley?"

"Passive-aggressive," Ashley answered. "Passive-aggressive female pretending to be alpha female I think."

"Sorry Dave apparently you were out-blinked," Spencer smiled to himself.

"And you were outrun by a cyclist," Dave quipped.

"Traffic lights are ahead of us why I should be driving faster if I would have to stop?" Spencer asked simply.

"I can kick you in the back," Dave coughed.

"Do it and one of the things I would be asking Gideon about will be if he would want to come back because our last Senior SSA had been left on the road in a ditch," Spencer rolled his eyes.

"You are never going to drop it, are you?" Dave smirked.

"I'm just distracting you from looking for the signs of the possible revenge for _let's mess with Reid's mind_," Spencer quipped. "You are just as guilty as the other two."

"Elephant," Dave coughed.

"It's called an eidetic memory," Spencer said simply. "Just stop paying attention to my driving skills and tell Ashley and Kate a story from old times."

"Cameron, can you be a dear and whack him across the head by the next red light on the traffic lights?" Dave asked innocently.

"Not until dinner," Kate objected. "If I whacked him across the head now I would be whacking my direct supervisor, so it will go on my personal files. However if I would whack him after dinner I would be whacking my friend which doesn't go into my personal files. Until then I have time to decide whatever or not he deserves a good whack."

"You have a clock on friendship?" Ashley asked curiously.

"Not on friendship," Kate smirked. "On physical violence against one another. On the clock it's a no-no, off the clock I can push him into a snow pile…"

"I can chunk a handful of flour at her," Spencer quipped.

"You are good baker," Dave said. "And you certainly bake a lot if Spencer's reinforcement cookies are any indication."

"Stress-relieving technique," Kate explained. "Something I picked up from my dad. He couldn't bake an edible cookie to save his life but baking itself… Especially after something went wrong. He always came home, changed into comfortable clothes, pulled all ingredients out of the cupboard and proceed to bake with me… of course baking always ended with us cleaning up the kitchen afterwards and a stock of inedible cookies but even when I was small I knew how much it relaxed him to do something so boringly normal and childish at times."

"You are good baker," Ashley said pointedly.

"I had Killian," Kate said simply. "I had to learn how to make edible cookies and I couldn't argue with logic. Kate, you said that you love chemistry. I did. Isn't cooking like chemistry but with edible chemicals? So I had to hone my cooking proves though baking is my strongest suit."

"You raised him single-handedly since you were eleven?" Ashley asked skeptically.

"Sixteen, officially," Kate coughed. "At eleven I had to be a big sister. By sixteen I was surrogate mother, I was seventeen when I legally got all parental rights."

"Why?" Ashley pressed.

"Why the sun moves from east to west?" Kate shrugged.

"Because it has to?" Ashley asked pensively.

"You got it, dearie," Kate nodded. "I had to so I did it, I'm happy that I did, it was hard and at times awful but I don't regret it."

"And you honed your parenting skills," Ashley said. "You would be the greatest mother in the neighborhood when you will have children on your own."

Spencer looked from the corner of his eye at Kate, she looked through the window.

"Not a comfortable subject," Dave whispered.

"I'm never going to have children on my own," Kate said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Ashley whispered. "Is this because of medical condition?"

"You can say so," Kate sighed.

"If you were physically sick you wouldn't have make it through the academy," Dave pointed out gently.

"Guys!" Spencer hissed.

"You really don't have to," Kate looked at him sympathetically. "The sooner they learn that the better I guess, additionally I'm still not past the mark and you know it. Chances are that nothing will happen but this… this is a wild card, one that being dealt with I managed to avoid so far. My luck might hold or it might not…"

"It's you who really don't have to talk," Spencer said pointedly.

"Schizophrenia is a lifetime illness and happens to be genetically passed," Kate said calmly. "My mother is an institutionalized paranoid schizophrenic, my sister, Killian's mother was disorganized, though not institutionalized, she was about to when she died. At the age of eleven I knew that what happened to them might happen with me, that's why I had chosen psychiatric medicine. That's why no matter how much I would love to have children one day I'm not going to have one on my own… Some things like sharp mind come for a bigger price… like incredibly messed up gene pool. I won't subject any future child of mine to this."

"Reasonable fear," Dave said quietly. "Though after meeting Killian I find myself strongly supporting the idea of you as a parent someday because, kid, you are great mother to him, letting your parental skills go would be a terrible waste."

"Thank you," Kate turned her face to the back of the car.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Ashley offered. "It wasn't my intention."

"I know," Kate nodded. "So who wants to play a road game?"

"What kind of?" Ashley asked quickly.

"Wordsnake?" Kate offered.

"The last letter of one word exactly the same as the one starting next word?" Dave asked. "It's been called differently."

"Mere technicality," Spencer shrugged.

"Yogurt," Dave quipped.

"Tramp," Ashley caught on.

"Postmark," Kate quipped.

"Kettle," Spencer quipped.

"Existentialism," Dave said.

'Ass,' Spencer snorted inwardly.

"Mechanical," Ashley said quickly.

"Laparoscopy"

"Yeti"

"Iceberg"

"Ginger"

"Rationalization"

"Neuropsychiatric"

"Cello"

"Orange"

"Emancipation"

"Notorious"

"Sentimentalist"

"Tactless"

"Skeptic"

"Characteristic"

"Carol"

"Luxury"

"Yoda"

"Ambidextrous"

Wordsnake had lasted for two hours, after half of an hour general rules had went out of the window and from English they had switched to the wild card of multi-linguistic abilities not that Dave or Ashley had a chance against Spencer and Kate because they didn't.

It was refreshing and challenging just as much as the next activity which had Spencer recite Dante's Inferno in English, Kate translating it into incredibly bad Italian which caused the other two to snicker. Ashley, most probably not wanting to be out-beat by the other two had thrown in Moliere in French which Dave immediately started translating into Italian which Kate proceed to translate into Spanish on which Spencer commented in Portuguese how much they managed to butcher the original line.

But bantering wasn't a luxury during a road trip.

Until Hotch called them up to check on them while the other three were in the middle of multi-lingual discussion (argument really) over Cyrano De Bergerac.

"I thought that I'd sent you to Oregon, not to Mediterranean," Hotch commented.

"It wasn't my fault," Spencer protested. "All right, tune that down you three," he turned his head to them and quickly turned back. "Sorry for that. I totally blame three hours ride without a break," he told Hotch. "How are you?"

"Just landed," Hotch said. "The lecture is tomorrow in the morning so we have time to snoop around without supervision. I will call again after seven."

"We should just reach Joseph by then," Spencer said. "Shut it! I can't hear a single word Hotch is saying!" he hissed at the other three. "Much better," he added after they fell silent.

"Something was blinking in the corner of the jet when we got there," Hotch said dryly. "It was probably yours."

"Hotch. They question my driving skills, they butcher good literature in Romanesque languages and they use very big words in road games. And for about an hour now I had been feeling the vibes of growing resentment towards my person," Spencer said calmly.

"Have you taken a bathroom break?" Hotch asked simply. "It's a long way…"

"It will be longer we still have three hours," Spencer said quickly.

"Coffee break," Dave coughed.

"Candy bar," Ashley muttered.

"Look at those woods," Kate said. "I can see a spring running through it. Water cascading through the rocks…"

"It's like taking a road-trip with a car full of third graders, Hotch, Reid out," Spencer said to the phone before he sighed, "Okay I got your point. First gas station in sight we are taking a break."

"Cameron, did he just blinked?" Dave asked calmly.

"I think that he just realized that he is outnumbered and he knows that the success of the interview relays on his shoulders so if he finds himself ditched in the middle of the woods he isn't going to succeed, which would mean that he failed Hotch and pretending to be Alpha he might be yet he still knows who is bigger Alpha above him," Kate answered.

"I hate you," Spencer sighed.

"That was so third grade," Kate, Ashley and Dave snorted in unison.

* * *

><p>After the twenty minutes break at gas station in Pendleton the three passengers calmed down reasonably to busy themselves with their coffees and snacks before they moved to discussing the case and to make slight tweak in general plan of pushing on Gideon's buttons.<p>

Spencer and Dave together had reached the conclusion that interviewing Gideon in the morning might have seemed good idea at the beginning but because the man always had been nightly owl they should use it to their advantage which meant that upon reaching Joseph they would go straight to his house which meant that another stop must be made on the way to Joseph, in Enterprise just close enough for the girls to change out of their semi-casual clothes into more into character costumes.

"So, what you think?" Dave asked as they leaned against the door of the SUV when Kate and Ashley had went to the bathroom to change.

"About psychodrama?" Spencer shrugged. "Kate will pull it off splendidly and we instructed Ashley how to confuse Gideon with her Elle/Emily attitude. I'm being calm about their act. It's my act I'm more worried about."

"Doctor Malcolm," Dave said pointedly. "Straight back, eyes focused on the target while intellectually tearing him a new one. Your alpha male attitude is anger oriented. The question is are you angry at Gideon?"

"He knew that I would be angry… that's why he left the letter," Spencer muttered. "I have severe abandonment issues, I trusted Gideon to be there, to be someone to whom I could turn to because I was struggling. I made it, no thanks to him. So yes, I'm angry."

"Then use it," Dave said simply. "Wow," he whispered after a second. "Did you look like that straight out of academy?"

Spencer looked up from the ground at Kate and grinned, "I didn't wear skirts but this… is me ten years ago. We will be fine."

Inwardly he couldn't help but admire how subtle things like changing jeans into sporty skirt and plain white shirt into dark green one with his old maroon jumper from Cal-Tech along with sporty sneakers could change Kate from certified psychiatrist who knew how to dress herself into awkward _I-Just-Graduated-From-FBI-Academy-And-It-Scares-The-Living-Daylight-Out-Of-Me_ barely legal genius.

His oversized sandy sweater which he pulled from the deepest bottom of his closet was proverbial cherry on the top, along with awkwardly and strategically placed at the front of the right hip Glock 17, topped with FBI issued winter jacket Kate was picturesque definition of _Rookie Reid_.

"Tread carefully," Spencer told her when they settled in the car.

In answer he got meekly questioning look strengthened by widening big, blue eyes… _Oh. My. God. Was I always so readable?_

Kate wedged her old bag from medschool which had seen better days between herself and the door before she visibly hunched herself in her seat. The only typically Kate movement she had made was drawing her hair in a tight knot on the back of her neck which allowed him to see that despite her initial hate to use make up Kate had used it to strengthen the circles under her eyes.

"When was the last time I told you that you are a genius?" he asked her simply.

"At Sunday afternoon when you got cookies after a very long discussion about Quantum Physics with my precious, prodigious progeny," Kate answered simply.

"Funny afternoon?" Dave quipped.

"Very," Kate nodded. "If they didn't need substance and Killian wasn't supposed to get to the airport they would still be talking, trust me."

"How many similarities you see?" Dave asked curiously.

"A few but in so far more differences than similarities. Similarities are purely academic, differences are in characteristics. Killian openly overcomes his awkwardness in direct contact with other people. He initiates physical contact if he starts feeling comfortable, it's something he picked up from the therapy. If you feel good in someone's presence let them know that. It's subtle and quick like touching arms or hands and smiling or gentle swats on the arm."

"I'm not touchy-feely," Spencer said simply.

"Killian is and because he is psychologically challenging he knows how to use physical contact to have people open to him. That's the reason he is so good with children, kids yearn physical contact from someone they trust."

"Sounds like you have a profiler in training," Dave quipped.

"I hope not," Kate muttered. "I know about the importance and impact of role models on the psychological development of prepubescent children but I definitely find myself not supporting that career path. I would feel much more better if he kept himself academically fixated."

"You know what does it make you?" Spencer quipped.

"Hypocrite and yes I know," Kate smiled quickly. "We struck a deal on Saturday and in so far I hope that following that deal would keep him firmly academically busy until he turns at the very least twenty-three, twenty-five if my calculations are accurate."

"What was the deal?" Spencer asked curiously.

"I won't object to having you enter FBI Academy but only and I stress only if you enter the academy at twenty-three or after receiving your fifth PhD," Kate said patiently.

"Well he is certainly driven from what I saw," Dave snickered.

"He underestimates my Jedi mind-tricks," Kate snorted. "I know few people in the academy to whom I can complain how psychologically draining full training is for people under standard entry age and yes I know that makes me a hypocrite. But I'm his mother I have to do something more than sitting tight for a decade with my fingers crossed that something more interesting will capture his attention. That's," she turned to Spencer, "why I made a point of keeping the two of you apart but you just had to question it."

"Sorry," Spencer mumbled sheepishly.

"You are so not…" Kate grumbled. "You loved every minute of it. Controlled intellectual development of prepubescent child prodigies my oh so smart, read through your intentions, bum."

"Let's say that I prefer to have his mind on our side rather than the other side because that would totally suck," Spencer quipped.

"If he ever will find himself on the other side it would mean that I totally sucked as a mother," Kate muttered.

* * *

><p>Gideon's shack was exactly where he expected it to be, at the very end of the road, far away from the neighbors in total seclusion surrounded by nature.<p>

He and Dave get out of the SUV first but had waited with approaching the door until Kate and Ashley came from around the car and fell into steps three-four steps behind them.

Spencer kept his back straight, head up, eyes fixated on the door of the cabin. With his right hand he reached for his credentials and he drew his jacket back from the right side so his recently taken out of storage closet Glock 17 was clearly visible on his right hip.

As he stepped on the porch he knocked on the wooden door and took a step back as he passed his credentials from his right hand to left.

From the corner of his eye he saw Dave standing a step away from him, slightly a step behind him was standing Ashley and Kate was strategically placed behind Ashley's back.

_Enter stage right, the highest time for a little psychodrama._

"Jason Gideon? FBI. We want to talk with you," Spencer said in firm and commanding voice.

**Jason Gideon**

It had taken him six months of traveling all over the states to finally settle in a cabin in East Oregon for no other reason than how much the place had reminded him of his old cabin.

At first he liked the seclusion it offered him, complete, utter peace and only nature for the company. But after a year since he left Virginia and six months since he moved into Joseph he started coming out more.

He had made few friends within the town, it was easy to satisfy the curiosity of the country folk. A widower who couldn't stand living in his old house. They bought it and he didn't find himself eager to change the story once it was out.

Life was simply easier, calmer and the longing he felt inside was easier to bear when what surrounded you was nature.

He longed to return to Virginia, not for long, for a moment, just to face his old demons, see old friends, see people who had been his family. But as much as he yearned to do so something kept him firmly rotted in Joseph.

It was guilt, guilt over leaving them the way he did and regret for not leaving them more explanations than one letter addressed to Spencer.

He was remotely updated about their ups and downs. Wayne Wolfenstein sometimes slipped a word here, a word there about the members of the team alpha. He knew that after he had left BAU Hotch quite quickly got divorced for whatever reason, knew that within two months of his departure David Rossi came in to fill his old position. He knew that Spencer was shot at some point and that Hotch had problems with a man named Foyet, that Jennifer had became a mother of a boy named Henry, Garcia got hooked up with another technical analyst from FBI and that Morgan was still Morgan. There were few mentions about Emily having a car accident and much more later into some troubles with Interpol. There was nothing more than that, only what Wayne had passed to him and Jason never found in himself enough courage to ask for more.

At the same time he expected them to track him at some point, track him and have him dragged back to DC metaphorically kicking and screaming and he would have gone because it meant that he was needed and that was what he wanted. He wanted to be needed, needed by them.

So when he heard distinctive murmur of the engine of a SUV outside his cabin he found that something in his stomach had jolted, jumped, make a backward flip before it settled down.

From where he was he couldn't see them but he slowly tiptoed to the kitchen window that allowed him to see the porch.

Four people. Two dark-haired Caucasian males and two females, one blonde, one dark-haired. Which could only mean Aaron, Spencer, Emily and Jennifer, he felt slightly disappointed that Morgan hadn't come with them because he knew that David Rossi wouldn't come.

He approached the door carefully and just as he let his hand hover over the handle he heard, said in firm and commanding, a very familiar, yet so different voice, "Jason Gideon? FBI. We want to talk with you."

He took a deep breath and let it out before he took another, pressed the handle and pulled the door open enough to see his visitors.

David Rossi. What a surprise? Left hand holding his credentials casually but eyes fixated on his own right, expression solemn and somber.

Next to Rossi on the left was standing a blonde with an unreadable expression on her face. She definitely wasn't Jennifer.

Next to the blonde, strategically placed behind the other woman was a dark-haired woman who definitely wasn't Emily and with her big blue eyes wide open, shoulders slumped and old black leather messenger bag she bore more semblance to Spencer in his first months in BAU rather than to Emily.

Finally his eyes had stopped at the credentials and another familiar face.

Spencer, with hardened expression, eyes focused, left hand outstretched to hold his credentials, his back straight, Glock 17 firmly in sight.

"Jason Gideon," Spencer said stiffly. "Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid, those are SSA David Rossi and Special Agents Ashley Saver and Doctor Kate Cameron. We would like to discuss something with you."

Jason took in the scene before him. Rossi smirked briefly during the introduction. The blonde had nodded at the mention of Ashley Seaver, the brunette behind her waved her hand nervously at the name Cameron.

Wayne hadn't written in two months, a lot could have changed.

"Of course," Jason found himself saying as he stepped aside and allowed them to come into his sitting room. "Come in. Tea? Coffee?"

As if on a cue three heads turned to the right and three pairs of eyes had fixed on Spencer who held his head high and kept his expression unreadable.

"We had some just recently, thank you, maybe later," Spencer said calmly.

How different he was from Spencer Jason had remember from four years ago, skittish, nervous, constantly looking up between him and Hotch. This wasn't Spencer he had left. When their eyes meet Spencer's gaze had held his like a vice.

He wore plain black suit with white shirt and black tie and the whole thing was perfectly tailored to him. Even his hair were darker than Jason remembered.

'Are you surprised?' his conscience taunted him from the back of his head. 'You left not fully trained agent that struggled with drug-use, who had severe abandonment issues and had never felt comfortable in his own skin. One that used his intellect as a shield, one that looked up to you… That's what you've got for leaving Spencer all on his own with Rossi, Hotch and Morgan, he hadn't have a chance to grow comfortable in his own skin before they molded him into the chalk of their own, they were alphas, Spencer wasn't.'

And just behind Spencer, carefully observing Spencer's and Jason's staring contests, blinking rapidly between one and the other was the brunette.

Her shoulders were still slumped, head slightly cocked to the left, her expression unsure and her blue eyes big. She was standing half of the step behind Spencer, with her black messenger bag placed in front of her like a shield, Glock 17 placed on the front of the right hip. She wore layer upon layer of clothes, FBI jacket, oversized sweater vest that looked suspiciously like the one Spencer had in his wardrobe, under that was a maroon woolen jumper and completely mismatched with other colors green shirt. Sporty, khaki colored skirt and sporty shoes. Then she moved her left hand and made a move as if she was trying to prop invisible glasses on the top of her nose. So much like Spencer…

The mentor and the rookie. He should have seen this. He saw this with Spencer at the very beginning, gaze flickering between himself and Hotch, figures of authority, the mentors, older and trustworthy agents.

So brunette was Spencer's rookie but she looked so ridiculously young, perhaps it was a matter of clothes… but there was the doctor part… so young… so young.

"Excuse me doctor, how old are you?" Jason found himself asking.

"Twenty," she stammered. "As of last month I'm twenty."

He looked immediately to Spencer who had his left eyebrow cocked slightly but other than that his face was blank.

"What kind of a doctor are you, Doctor Cameron?" Jason found himself gazing back at the girl.

"Of psychiatric medicine, sir," she said nervously. "I also have PhD from psychology and geography… and BA from mathematics."

"Are you a genius?" Jason asked before he could stop himself.

"Well," the girl seemed to shift from foot to foot, looked quickly up at Spencer before she continued quickly, "I'm not fully convinced that intelligence can be properly measured whatsoever but I do have an intelligence quotient of 183, an echoic memory and I can read 17 000 words per minute," she paused and looked quickly at Spencer before looking at the floor, "Yes, I'm a genius."

Interesting, incredibly interesting. But he looked at the blonde. She had her arms crossed over her chest, jacket slightly drawn to the right to show off Glock 17 placed on her hip. Her gaze briefly flickered between Rossi (first) and Spencer (second) before she looked at him and held his gaze.

"Ashley Seaver," Jason said. "Interesting name…"

"Family name Beauchamp," Seaver said quickly and took a step back. "Like Charles Beauchamp, sir."

_Redmund Ripper_, his mind immediately made the connection, quickly acknowledged how the girl strategically placed herself half a step behind Rossi, who smirked quickly.

_This is what you are missing Jason, two new rooks, one genius, one daughter of a psychopath_, Rossi's smirk was saying

"How are the others?" Jason turned his gaze to Spencer.

"They are alive," Spencer shrugged. "Well… for most of the part they are alive but in so far the ratio between alive and dead is higher than the other way therefore so far we are good."

"Oh," Jason whispered and held Spencer's gaze who held it until Jason looked at the floor. "Who?"

"Haley Hotchner was murdered by George Foyet two years ago and last year Emily Prentiss was killed by a sociopath on personal revenge but so far we are good," Spencer said simply. "Garcia was shot, so was I, few weeks after I contracted anthrax, JJ was beaten by a sociopath while interviewing a possible witness, Morgan managed to get himself mauled more than several times, Hotch was stabbed nine times by Foyet but Foyet is dead and Hotch is not… Well I guess, you didn't miss much… just a chunk of few years in the company of people who considered you as a family member but I guess that if spirit is unwilling and the flesh is weak…," Spencer shrugged.

"Not that I don't want to disturb this interesting exchange but it's not a social call, Spencer," Rossi said calmly.

_Familiarity_, so un-Rossi behavior.

"Sure it isn't, if it was social I would have come here three years and five months ago… Perhaps not, it was bad personal time and I needed actual help not the permission to struggle," Spencer said pensively, his eyes flickering to Jason at the word _struggle_. "Anyway we have a case. The deal is on the table, Gideon. You cooperate with us and answer all of our questions so we can go our separate ways like I'm sure you would love to do already or…" Spencer looked to Rossi.

"Or we will perform an official arrest for assisting a serial killer and helping to hide the evidence. Naturally if we are wrong we will apologize profusely and in public. But answer yourself this question. Do you want your peace to be disturbed by the arrest, Jason?" Rossi asked calmly.

Something heavy settled in his stomach.

"How many?" he asked quietly as he looked between Spencer and Rossi.

"In so far fifty-seven," it was Doctor Cameron who answered nervously. "Brunettes in position of authority, warring ages, severely starved to death but before that viciously beaten, branded and missing for few months."

"It's a very active unsub," Seaver interjected.

"Nation-wise active unsub," Doctor Cameron clarified, suddenly her gaze shifted from Jason to something behind his back and her eyes narrowed.

Spencer's "Gideon?" was spoken together with Rossi's "Jason?"

"Of course," Jason said quickly. "Everything you need."

"Every single photograph in this place," Doctor Cameron said quickly.

"And every single letter," Spencer stressed. "I don't care if it's a private correspondence or a bill every single piece of paper which you didn't wrote goes on the table. Dave, Ashley get the equipment and get us settled," he nodded at the other two. "Then proceed with the rest of the interview."

**SSA ****Spencer Reid**

He saw it in the moment Kate did, the photograph behind Gideon's back, the photograph of a one of the most recent dump-sides and next to that hung the photograph of the place of abduction.

Gideon had a decency to look stunned and agreed to help quickly. Before even Dave and Ashley had reached the car to pick up the equipment the long table in the corner had stashes of photographs framed and in albums placed in there as well as quite impressive stack of letters.

Spencer signaled to Kate to exclude Gideon's personal photographs before he settled himself at the letters, quickly separating bills and private correspondence into separate piles and returning to Gideon's hands the bills. Most of the correspondence held no interest to him, only one name that he had found quickly.

_Wayne Wolfenstein_

He was saved from answering any questions by Dave and Ashley who upon dropping the equipment by the table had went with Gideon to the kitchen to interrogate him as soon as the door of the kitchen had closed behind the other three Spencer separated Wolfenstein's letters from the others.

Silent sociopath who had been trained how to show compassion and understanding or at the very least enough of it to pass. Man who hated women in authority, brunettes. A narcissist judging from the correspondence and how plausible he described his journeys, meetings of the victims. And a sadist from the way they died.

Before the door of the kitchen had opened he and Kate had confirmed that Wayne Wolfenstein had meet fifty-seven women that had been found dead and most probably had killed another fifteen missing brunettes.

Two in Joseph in the span of three years, one three years ago and the other just four months ago.

He dialed Hotch's personal cell-phone number and said quietly, "Narcissistic sociopath with sadistic tendencies with fifty-seven confirmed victims and fifteen possible victims. Two of them went missing from this place."

"What you found?" Hotch asked quickly.

"Photographs and letters. We will visit possible dump-sides tomorrow," Spencer said stiffly. "Also Kate has a lead on Indianapolis but she is up into her neck in missing persons reports. She is sending the information to your personal cell-phone right now."

"And Wayne Wolfenstein had done all of this?" Gideon whispered. "He wouldn't…"

The only answer Gideon had gotten was the last file with discovered victim, Molly Loraine, a state-trooper, Kate held it up to Gideon without tearing her eyes from between the photographs and the screen.

"I never thought that I would live to see the day when I will say that the idea of having the nation GPS tracked has its own merits," Spencer said grimly.

"Or that at least tracking the employees of government agencies has its own merits," Kate muttered.

"Have you found the stressor?" Spencer looked from the stack of letters at Dave.

"Have you ever fished with a fishing rod made from paper and paperclips?" Dave asked.

"Papier-mâché," Kate muttered.

"Still you have to have a lot of luck to catch a fish on something like that," Dave said with small smile in Kate's direction. "Self experience, Kate?"

Kate looked up and stared at Dave pointedly.

"Now would you like to share some more with us, Jason?" Dave turned to Gideon. "The earliest victim, Spencer?"

"22nd November 2001, Tampa, Florida," Spencer sighed. "Kate O'Malley, firefighter, mother of two. Beaten into unconscious state before she was left to die from starvation. Crime scene was also the dump-side because our charming sod hadn't come back to Tampa ever since. Her body was discovered two years ago but due to lack of physical evidence her murderer was never caught, preliminary profile was delivered to Tampa PD by Wolfenstein himself."

"He also delivered the profile for twenty-seven other victims and ten missing person reports," Kate added.

"He is obsessively clean in them," Spencer continued. "Controlled, meticulous, never leaves a detail out of place, covers every single ground. He plays with us…"

"Because he has power," Dave muttered. "He got away with it once so he tried again, and again, and again."

"So?" Spencer looked at Gideon. "Stressor?"

"In early November, around 10th if I remember well his fiancée had left him, she was section chief in internal police in DC, moved away to Seattle and had taken their daughter with her," Gideon said quietly.

"What was her name?" Kate asked quickly.

"Hannah Declan, Hannah and Fiona," Gideon said.

Kate furiously tapped the keyboard before she said, "Fifty-nine. Hannah and Fiona Declan were found beaten to death in abandoned factory loft on 24th September 2003 in Seattle. The coroner established the date of death as 20th September which is consistent with the profile because Wayne Wolfenstein delivered the profile about an arsonist in high school on 19th September 2003 to Seattle PD, departed on late 20th September which had given him enough time to do this…" Kate turned the laptop to show them crime scene photos.

"How many he had killed until then?" Dave asked quickly.

"Twenty," Spencer said quickly. "There is no learning curve and the cooling period varies, as if in every town he had ever been he had to take a victim.

"Narcissistic sociopath with sadistic tendencies. That one won't go down easily," Dave sighed.

"Or he will," Kate muttered.

"He has a gun and he is a good shooter," Ashley pointed out. "Ninety is quite good record."

"He is not the only person in the building with a gun," Kate pointed out. "About eighty-five percents of FBI employees in Quantico are licensed to carry a gun. What I'm saying is blitz attack with fast acting subduing medicine… Haldol usually works."

"Spencer?" Dave looked pointedly at him.

"Wolfenstein is sidelined on crutches and at desk job," Spencer mussed. "I would prefer to have strong evidence before the arrest rather than profile alone, I'm hoping that he had left something behind here and Hotch and Morgan are still in Indianapolis and it's already dark."

"Dump-side tomorrow in the morning," Dave nodded. "Kate you done with processing?"

"Almost, I'm a doctor not a blitz scanner," Kate sighed. "And one that is not blitz scanning actually… Would you stop announcing that your lamp is overheated for next five minutes?" she glared at the scanner.

"Did you try scanning the photographs in groups?" Ashley offered.

"That's what I had been doing, I'm scanning everything by towns and dates," Kate said pointedly.

"Dave, Ashley, Wolfenstein had been very active," Spencer said pointedly. "That's a lot of data to proceed."

"And we have the letters to scan too," Kate muttered. "Do we have backup scanner in the car?"

"The downside of separating the team is that you are separating backup equipment too," Dave muttered. "Aaron and Derek have the other scanner with them."

"Coffee break," Kate muttered. "Scanner went on strike."

"Photographs?" Spencer asked.

"All except these six," Kate snorted as she opened the scanner and handed the photographs to him.

"They will be all proceed for evidence anyway," Spencer said as he pulled evidence bag out of one of the carriers and stamped it with the label and wrote 'Not Digitally Proceed'. "Early night, early start, we are hitting the dump-side when the sun will raise."

"I saw decently looking motel not so far away," Dave said quickly.

"It has incredibly funky plumbing system," Gideon said suddenly.

"We slept in worse places," Spencer shrugged.

"I have two guest bedrooms upstairs," Gideon said quickly.

"Funky plumbing won't be a problem, I saw a motel just outside Enterprise too," Spencer said stiffly.

"Please, Spencer," Gideon said quietly. "That's probably the only thing I can do for you now. Offer you food and a place to sleep."

"_Supervisory Special Agent_ Reid and we will be fine at the motel, _Gideon_," Spencer spoke as he stood up, he put strong emphasis on his own title as well as Gideon's surname.

Something akin to pain had passed through Gideon's eyes but Spencer had decided that he had done nothing to feel guilty about saying things that pained Gideon. God help him, let him feel the minimal dose of pain he had caused to them, to him, when he left without nothing more than one letter.

"Don't let it eat you," Kate said softly. "Because if you will let that anger and resentment you feel towards Gideon control your head the cravings for sure will return."

"I'm not forgiving Gideon," Spencer barked at her.

"I'm not asking you to forgive him," Kate looked up from the screen up at him and straight into his eyes. "I know that forgiveness cannot be given fully if it wasn't earned. It wasn't. What I'm asking you, Spencer, is to be a better man than Jason Gideon. If not for yourself, then do it for me. Because I know that you are a better man, Spencer."

"I will do this but only because you asked me to, Kate," he said quietly.

They spoke this in Esperanto, a language they both knew but the other three did not, at least Spencer was strongly convinced that they didn't. Gideon didn't know it for sure when he left and it didn't seem that Esperanto would be something he picked during his hiding.

"We will take you upon your offer, Gideon," Spencer switched to English. "But only because we had a very long and tiring day. Don't read too much into it. You two okay with that?" Spencer looked at Dave and Ashley.

"I'll be fine," Dave shrugged. "And I really slept in worse places and company."

"I do remember that," Spencer rolled his eyes. "Broken SUV in Maine, spotty signal and where we got stuck no signal whatsoever for at least five miles, middle of the night and it rained like crazy. Threats of bodily harm and gagging had been involved and until today Hotch still cannot understand how it took three men ten hours to repair the engine enough to get the SUV to the nearest town," he explained to the girls.

"Because our doctor of mechanical engineering after a hour of poking and prodding had declared that statistically after the hour of standing like a beanpole outside in heavy rain his risk of developing pneumonia was increasing by every minute in opposite to the chance of getting that infernal car to even cough," Dave snorted. "Then he proceed to tell us a ghost story about a man who had been eaten by an unknown creature in the same forest we happened to be stranded."

"I got bronchit because of that," Spencer snorted.

"And a black eye because Derek thought that you were the creature and whacked you right away," Dave said dryly.

"I was stuck for over an hour in cold, pouring rain and I wasn't even supposed to sneeze?" Spencer protested. "Jeez, thanks, Dave."

"You're welcome, Spencer," Dave smirked.

"What about existentialism?" Ashley asked curiously. "You gripped the steering-wheel very tightly then."

"Apparently I have very quirky sense of humor and not many people understand it," Spencer rolled his eyes. "Ask Dave about the story, I'm going for the go-bags. Coming, Kate?"

"Sure," Kate nodded.

**Jason Gideon**

There was something incredibly disturbing when he realized that Spencer let Rossi and his rookie to interview him. It wasn't even a real interview, more like a series of pointless questions about his life here, about his friends here, about Steven and his family. It was just an excuse to keep him away from Spencer and his rookie. And as much as it angered him to be busied around in his own home and by David Rossi no less he went along with it because he knew that his peace was at stake.

Realization that his own student, a friend whom he had trusted for years could be responsible for deaths of fifty-nine women and his own daughter on that… It chocked him and made the guilt surge even higher. He was useless piece of shit, he was a fucking profiler and he had all clues under his very nose and it took two geniuses to figure out that a man he trusted was sadistic, narcissistic sociopath.

He should have seen it coming but he didn't.

It was the ridding guilt that made him offer them dinner and a place to stay the night even if deep down he knew that they wouldn't take it. Rossi certainly for the sake of principals, Spencer… he knew that Spencer would be angry with him when he left and that their first meeting afterwards won't be easy. At some level he expected this behavior from Spencer but he still offered.

Then he heard and observed the conversation in a language he didn't know. Heard his name being mentioned thrice, once fully, heard the girl speak Spencer's name twice. What he didn't understand in words was evident in voices and body language.

Spencer, angry barking voice at first, heavy with emotion. Then suddenly calm and collected, very controlled and hinted with riding emotions. Hands crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed at first, then slowly opening wider, calming down.

The girl, quiet and controlled voice, at some point even pleading. Body language open, eyes big and most probably pleading.

There was no question who was in control during the conversation. Whatever was spoken between them in the language only the two of them understood was something… something precious.

When the two of them left the room to pick the go-bags from the car he heard Rossi speaking.

"Kate is right," Rossi sighed. "He is certainly a better man. And he is lucky enough to have a very intelligent woman to remind him of that by his side."

"What was that?" Rossi's rookie, Seaver asked curiously.

"Esperanto," Rossi said simply. "I grew bored during retirement and Esperanto was something I picked after I broke a leg while skiing in the early days. I never had a chance to use it and those two had thought that no one would understand them. Don't tell them that, Ashley."

"Okay," the girl nodded. "Because it's better to have them convinced that no one understands them when they use Esperanto."

"Because part of evaluation between probationary agent and the rookie is observing their relationship. How can you evaluate something when you don't understand half of the things they are saying?" Rossi winked at Seaver. "It was a very enlightening exchange indeed. Morgan's fears were just that, fears, they will be fine. Now about the rooms upstairs could you give any specifics?"

"One double," Jason said slowly. "The other room has a bunk bed for the boys."

"I'm not playing enie miny miny," Spencer snorted as he entered the sitting room.

"We aren't," Rossi said dryly. "Girls will take double bed, we will take the bunk and you are going up."

"Because you don't want to explain to Hotch how I got low grade concussion because you rather explain how I managed to break a leg?" Spencer snorted. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"If you talk about it it's not much of a secret you know," Cameron smiled lightly.

"It's not really much of a secret by now," Seaver smiled too.

"Meh," Rossi snorted. "Kids these days no respect for elders. If you will start talking in your sleep SAC or no SAC I will smoother you with your own pillow," he glared at Spencer.

"Six letter word for pretending, starts with 'f'," Spencer quipped.

"Façade," Cameron smirked.

"What you want in your obituary, Spencer?" Rossi smirked.

"Died from old age," Spencer smirked.

"I will find the linens for you and I will start the supper," Jason said.

**_The stronger always succeeds._**

**_Platus_**

* * *

><p><strong>Next<strong>: The confrontation heavily laden with guilty and anger (guess who is who).


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